Roxanne Weasley and The Darkness Rising
by partialtopotter
Summary: When a new big bad is out to haunt Hogwarts, Roxanne Weasley gives a first person account of how her friends and loving family attempt to defeat it. What happens when she falls for Finnian Parkinson? Especially since his mother, Pansy, and stepfather, Blaise Zabini, are the leaders of the new evil. Fic follows Roxanne ages 11 through 20(something).Rated M for later chapters: SC,V,L
1. My Turn

_First year: Roxanne is eleven years old_

Sound travels in my house; any word said or secret divulged above a whisper is fair game for any lucky snoop who happens to be in the vicinity. My brother, Fred, and I swear our Dad (better known to the world as George Weasley) put a spell on the house to make it that way. An addition he made due to his bitter resentment of having to use his extendable ears so frequently in his own childhood home. So, when Fred was being scolded by Mum the day I headed off to Hogwarts, let's just say – it felt like my own personal radio broadcast.

"FRED WEASLEY THE 2ND – I'VE CAUGHT YOU! CAN'T PULL THE WOOL OVER MY EYES – NO SIR! George, that's a point for me," my mother's voices echoed through the house. I ran downstairs to see the show live, plus if we didn't leave soon it was likely we were going to miss the Hogwarts express.

When I got downstairs, Fred was sitting in a chair in the middle of the living room, clutching a sad black puppy and grumbling to himself. He was no doubt not very pleased that he'd been found out. See, Hogwarts doesn't allow dogs but last Christmas my brother and I both got to pick out pets and he chose a puppy while chose a cat. I, of course, would be taking mine to school with me and he was supposed to sneak _his_ in past Mum under an invisibility cloak our cousin, James Potter, let us borrow. Obviously, I knew the whole plan; I may be two years younger than Fred but we are very close. I had never once snitched on him and I certainly wasn't going to start over a little matter like transporting illegal contraband my first day at a new school.

"Ahh Roxanne, honey, you aren't by any chance getting into any mischief this morning that I can bust you on. Your mother seems to be ahead in this month's tally," Dad said to me as I entered the room. Let me explain, Fred and I got in trouble a lot growing up, we had this family rule though: If you're not caught, you can't be punished. There was even a two week crime expiration date. Anyway, my parents turned it into a competition to see who at the end of each month could catch more of our dirty deeds.

"Nope dad, I'm clean."

"Ugh, since when? Come on, no spider eggs in your brother's bag like last year?"

"No dad, I'm good… You know most parents would be pleased at this sort of thing."

"We are dear," Mum (former quidditch pro, Angelina Johnson) said in a mildly sarcastic tone, sticking her tongue out at her husband. So, my family wasn't exactly normal but hey, we're Weasleys, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

When we'd finally got ourselves organized enough to get to the station, we were pretty much the last of the Weasley clan to arrive, all my cousins who were making the trip had already boarded the train. But, even so, you couldn't miss the road block of adults, a huge clump of ginger with some blonde and black spots every few heads.

"Roxy, my sweet, I'm so proud of you – going off to school," Gran Weasley had tears welling in her eyes. She pulled me into a tight plump hug, sneaking a sack of treats in my bag for later.

"Thanks Gran," I smiled at her.

"Hey Weasley, you better get on the train before it leaves you behind" a tan boy, with a curly black affro said from the train window. That was my best friend, Ivar Jordan, he's the son of my mum and dad's best mates Katie Bell and Lee Jordan.

Mum and Dad gave me and Fred one final hug and put us on the train. My heart was beating with every step. This was it – it was finally my turn to go to Hogwarts!

"BYE KIDS! MAKE GOOD CHOICES."

"BUT DON'T LET THE MAN KEEP YOU DOWN"

"MUMMY LOVES YOU"

"BUT NOT MORE THAN GOOD OLD DAD!"

That would be my parents trying scream over the sound of the train leaving the station. Curious how they didn't stop yelling even after the train's whistle subsided. That's my parents for you, always making a scene.

The train was just as magical as I'd always pictured, there were older wizards casting spells and playing games of exploding snap and wizard's chess. My uncle Ron taught me to play that once. Back when he was in school he helped stop Voldemort by playing the game – the way he tells it, he could have died it was so dangerous.

"So, where are we sitting?" Ivar Jordan asked his sister Jessa, Fred, and my cousin, James. Jessa was Fred's age and Ivar and I secretly thought that they had a crush on each other.

"Not with us, sorry. The train's official Wheezes business for the three of us. Dad asked us to sell merchandise on the train while kid's pockets are still fresh with money from emotional parents." I crossed my arms, disappointed.

"Dad never asked me."

"Cheer up little sis, mum probably told him to let you enjoy your first ride or something maternal like that – you know, sentimental and stuff. Go sit with the rest of the family, I think I saw Victoire, Domonique and Molly go over there somewhere."

"Not a chance, we'll find our own compartment," I responded, motioning Ivar to come along. It's not that I didn't love my cousin's Victoire and Domonique, on the contrary, they were really cool and super pretty – Veela blood, as it were. But it was Molly's first year at Hogwarts too and she had to be the most annoying Weasley in the bunch, Dad swears her father, Uncle Percy, was worse but I beg to differ. Molly was known for doing what was practically outlawed in my household; she was a grade A tattler and I had no tolerance for it.

"Let's sit in here," Ivar suggested. The compartment was practically empty, excluding this first year witch with bone straight, yellow hair. She was wearing a pink mini skirt, a light blue tank top and baby blue platform shoes, a rather elaborate outfit for an eleven year old. She was tapping on a weird flashing rectangle that Ivar and I stared at with the upmost of confusion.

"arrrg!" She grumbled, Ivar and I sat up, thinking she must be referring to our recent entrance. "This dumb thing is going haywire! I'll have Daddy's assistant sort it all out. I'm Christie, by the way, Christie Simmers!" She moved her head side to side as if we were supposed to say something. "It's ok, I'm not shy. I am the Simmers from Simmers Incorporated – Daddy started the company by himself didn't you know. Ugh are your cell phones doing this too?"

Ivar and I just stared at her, dumb founded. We had no Idea who her father was and we definitely didn't own that cell phone thing she was talking about.

"A what?" I asked sheepishly. The rectangle she held up was all pixelated and flashing. I knew absolutely nothing about it, but it didn't seem to be working right.

"A cell phone." She paused. "Oh my God, you guys don't know what that is, do you?" She pulled a large, leather bound book out of her sparkling blue handbag. It said 'what you need to know about Wizards' on the front.

"oooooooooooooh" Ivar and I said together, nodding.

"Duh, you must be a muggle born." I hit myself on the head with the heel of my palm. "I'm Roxanne, this is my friend, Ivar."

"Is it that obvious I'm muddle born?" She asked looking worried. I giggled.

"M_uggle_ born. And yeah, it's pretty obvious to any other witch, but Hogwarts will change that sure enough. So is your dad like a big deal in the muggle world or something?"

"Huge! He owns a cellphone company. But it seems his merchandise is faulty," she said, hitting the flashing rectangle rather hard.

"Is it electronic by any chance?" she looked at me like it was obvious. "Yeah, nothing electronic works in the wizarding world, the magic interferes with its signals or whatever. My granddad is real obsessed with muggle stuff so I know. Sometimes he takes us to muggle neighborhoods to see this thing called the cinema."

"No electronics?! For a whole school year? You're kidding me right? How do you talk to your friends or ask your parents for stuff?"

"You send an owl."

"I'm sorry, what? I thought that whole owl thing was a joke."

"Man they don't tell you guys nothin' do they?" Ivar said looking sideways.

"They gave me this book, but I thought it was just, like, suggested reading." She held up the leather bound book from earlier. Ivar snickered, I jabbed him in the side.

"Owe!"

"So…were your parents excited when you got your letter, my mum cried when my brother, Fred, got his and she knew it was coming."

"Oh yeah, they were over the moon. Of course, we knew I was gifted – I was just like too good at guessing games, you know. Like someone says 'what do you think the weather will be like today' and I'd be like "hot, the neighbor's farm is going to catch on fire blah blah blah!"

"Wait, you're a seer?" Ivar asked in disbelief.

"Sure am! McGonagall, the Witch who told my parents about this stuff so they knew it wasn't some weird scam, told me I had the inner eye. Whatever that means."

"That's sooo cool!" I said, because it absolutely was. First of all, I had never met a real seer before in my life. They're a real big deal in the Wizarding World. I guess that's why McGonagall went to talk to her herself, that job was usually for someone a little less high up than the head mistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"If you're so good," Ivar said irritably "what house are we all going to be sorted into?"

"Oh please, that's easy! The one about the doors and thank god, am I right, I mean green and yellow are not my colors. I was kind of hoping for the blue but crimson's classic, you know, it's a total consolation. I'm deff not disappointed." Ivar and I stared at her, jaws dropped. Were we really just sorted by a little blonde muggle born that didn't know what Gryffindor was? We were so excited, though, we went off to tell our siblings. They were skeptical, of course, but it didn't matter because I, Roxanne Weasley, would be continuing the esteemed family tradition of being sorted into Gryffindor house!

And sure enough, at the start of year feast, Christie, Ivar and I found ourselves sitting underneath Gryffindor's _classic _crimson banners eating and smiling with rest of the Weasley/Jordan/potter clan. That is, excluding Molly, who I'm happy to report was sorted into Ravenclaw. This might be a bit harsh but I had considered requesting the hat sort me into another house just because the idea of rooming with her for seven years aroused the same feeling as rooming with one of my gran's lawn gnomes… and they bite.

"So do you guys, like, not know how to write and add and stuff?" Christie asked Ivar and I in the middle of our dessert.

"What?" I asked, mouth half full of custard.

"Yes, Christie we're homeschooled – you great ninny. What did you think, we were a bunch of illiterate eleven year olds?" Ivar said back angrily. They weren't getting off to a great start on the whole friendship front. Especially after Christie commented that she thought that his name sounded silly. Ivar and his sister were named after the first ever female quidditch player – Jessa Ivar. But, yeah I guess it would be a bit weird for a muggle born.  
"Well, I wouldn't know," she said defensively.

"You would if you read the book you were given on Wizards! I mean were you planning to just wing it?"

The sound of a woman clearing her throat was heard behind us, we all turned around – it was Headmistress McGonagall staring down at us with her cat eyes. She had a wrinkled face that was a mark that she'd gotten on in years but her presence was still very much agile and intimidating. I gulped audibly.

"Hello Headmistress," the three of us said together.

"Hello Miss Weasley, Mr. Jordan it is lovely to finally meet you. I hope to get to know the two of you quite well over the next seven years, though I hope not for the same reasons I know your brother, Roxanne." She turned her head towards Fred across the table. "Yes, it seems he certainly does live up to his name."

"How are you, Headmistress? Good holiday?" Fred said smugly with a charming smile. Ugh, my big brother was so cool.

"It was lovely, Mr. Weasley, thank you for asking. I spent a great deal of time visiting some friends of mine in America, such_ interesting_ Witches and Wizards they have there." She wrinkled her nose disapprovingly, then shook it off. "But enough of me, Miss Simmers, if you're done eating, I actually was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking a walk with me to the edge of the forest to talk to Professor Freinz. I think he will be able to give you a lot of insight into your divination capabilities."

"Sure thing Professor, just let me finish this cake. You sure do have some great food at this school." Christie said as if she were talking to a peer. James and Fred looked at her impressed.

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion at the entrance to the great hall. A balding, greasy man with shabby looking clothes came hobbling down the hall, clutching a disheveled boy wearing slytherin colors.

"Headmistress, headmistress!" The man said, heading in our direction.

"Excuse me," Headmistress McGonagall said before she went to meet the man half way.

"Who's that?" I whispered to my brother.

"That's Filch, the squib Dad's always telling us about."

"And that guy," my cousin James continued, "is Finnian Parkinson. He's a slytherin in my year." That must mean he was a grade above me. James was a year younger than Fred, but they were best friends all the same. "He's always getting into trouble. I mean, even more than the average slytherin."

"I saw this one drinking from a flask in a back corridor. I smelled it myself – waddn't butter beer in that cup." Flitch said to Professor McGonagall.

"With detective work like that it's no wonder you keep him around," Finnian said to McGonagall rolling his eyes. He was a handsome boy; he had dark hair that spiked up in all different directions, a set jaw and small grey eyes. He wore his white bottom down with the top buttons undone, only to reveal is small, slender frame.

"I see we are starting out the year on a positive note Finnian. Thank you Filtch, you can release him. Follow me Mr. Parkinson." McGonagall said sternly. The whole great hall seemed to have gone silent in rapt attention. All but Christie who seemed to be staring off into a very precise part of space. I wondered for a second if she was having a vision of some sort. She turned to look at me worried.

"Hey Roxanne, you should – " but before she could finish McGonagall and now Finnian showed up, signaling it was time for her to go "See you guys later." Then the three of them were off and I was left at the table to ponder what Christie was about to say.

"That Christie girl's weird," Ivar said once they were officially gone. It was the first time we'd been without her since the train. I laughed at him.

"I like her!" I stated proudly, much to Ivar's dismay.

* * *

Later that evening when I should have been sound asleep in my Hogwarts four poster, resting up for a full day of classes, I instead was wondering about the castle, too intrigued by all its many mysteries. My uncles Harry and Ron, my Aunt Hermione and even my Mum and Dad all had adventures in this place and it was finally my turn. My whole childhood, I'd heard the magical and thrilling stories of life at Hogwarts and it was time for me to start my own.

It's true what they say, be careful what you wish for. When I had reached an abandoned hall near the dungeons, the floor began to cave in, sucking me down with it. I let out a scream that sounded more like a child's shriek. So much for being in Gryffindor, I thought to myself. I wiggled and squirmed as I continued to be absorbed by the floor. The surrounding concrete did not seem to be melting so I attempted to push myself up but I wasn't strong enough.

"Oh jeez!" I said. Then I swore I heard a maniacal laugh right by my left ear. A shiver and a chill ran down my spine. Another loud screech escaped me, echoing through the halls. I heard footsteps coming from around the corner.

"Blimey, Kid, you wanna keep it down. What're trying to do, get every prefect in the school to bust us out of bed after hours?" It was the Parkinson Kid from earlier, he had a half smoked cigarette in his mouth.

"My hero, ladies and gentlemen," I said irritably because he'd yet to try to get me out the hole I was waist deep in.

"You want my help or not?" He said, coming closer. I gave him my hands. It took four hard yanks and a partially dislocated shoulder to get me out of that jam.

"Thank you," I said, getting to my feet.

"Yeah well, I just wanted to finish my cigarette in piece," He responded, he took another drag and blew out a big puff of smoke. He threw the bud into the hole just as it closed. I coughed from the smoke. He chuckled. "What're you doing wondering around the Castle at night by yourself? Haven't you heard this place's haunted?" He said that last part darkly. Even though he was only a year older than me, he talked like he was a bloody fifth year or something. I wasn't sure if I liked it, it gave the impression that there was a hint of condescension in everything he said.

"That's why I'm out," I said haughtily. "I'm cursed with overactive curiosity. Wanted to know what all the stories were about. "

"And how'd that work out for you?" He smiled, a crooked smile that favored his right side. "I swear you Gryffindor's are always out to prove something."

"Why am I not surprised, Finnian Parkinson and… Roxanne, is that you?" It was my cousin Victoire on prefect duty. I waved wirily at her. "Roxanne it's your first night in the Castle and already your following in your brother's footsteps?" She looked at me, disappointed.

"No," I said defiantly. "I'm making my own footsteps." Finnian snickered next to me.

"Nice," he whispered in my ear. I gave him a dirty look.

"What are you doing out of bed, Roxanne?" Victoire said, ignoring Finnian.

"I was just exploring the castle a little, honest." I said, hoping not to get written up due to the family clause of 'that would be a really Molly-like thing to do.'

"Try to do that during the day, OK? And what's your excuse, Parkinson? Haven't you already been to the headmistress' office once today? You have a thing for her or something, trying to see her in her night gown?" I let out a giggle that was too loud because I don't think Finnian took kindly to being made fun of. Finally, I thought, he looked his age – a twelve year old embarrassed little boy. I may have gotten a bit too much enjoyment out of the sight, he did save my life after all.

"That's my fault too Victoire," I said, "something uhh – frightened me – you heard the screams. Well, Finnian was in his common room, minding his own business, when he heard me and came out to see what was wrong."

"How valiant of him," she looked at him suspiciously, he just smiled back at her.

"Fine. Get to bed, both of you…Oh and since you're such a hero tonight Finnian, you won't mind walking a lost first year back to Gryffindor tower, will you?" He nodded his head with his left-tilted smile. Victoire left, heading around the corner to finish her rounds.

"It was pretty cool of you to cover for me back there," he said as we were on our way to Gryffindor tower.

"It was no big deal, I'm used to it. I do it for my brother all the time."

"How'd you know hottie-miss-snooty-pants anyway?"

"Oh Victoire? She's my cousin." He stopped walking, gawking at me.

"Wait, you're telling me you're a Weasley?" he said in a tone I didn't much like.

"Yeah I know, I'm not blessed with the dead giveaway hair color. I have the freckles though." I pointed to the row of dots that speckled my nose and a small portion of my cheeks. My hair was not the typical Weasley red like my brother's, nope my long wavy locks were average old brown.

"Ugh, I didn't peg you for a _Weasley_," he said, saying my last name in that rude way again.

"What're you trying to say, Parkinson?"

"Nothing, it's just the Weasley/Potter fandom around here, I'm over it. Like they saved the Wizarding World, big deal, so did half the other kid's families in this place. You're families just so… loud and entitled." My cheeks went warm with annoyance, I'd also inherited the Weasley temper. Nobody talked about my family, I thought. I pinched him hard on the arm. It was the only thing I could think to do on short notice.

"Owe," he said laughing. "Did you really just pinch me?" I was fuming.

"You know, I think I can make it back to Gryffindor tower by myself," I said marching away. "It's been nice getting to know you – NOT." Ok, so not my best line but I was eleven and in a rushed situation.

"Good, wouldn't want to be seen with a Weasley anyway," he said smiling, as if nothing I'd said affected him.

"ARRRG" I grumbled all the way back to my four poster, so angry that I completely forget the floor tried to swallow me whole.


	2. flying Faux pas and Potions Partners

_Roxanne is eleven years old_

The Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch was lined with eager first years awaiting they're first flying lesson. Though, strictly speaking, it was not the first for me and Ivar Jordan. In fact, we'd been flying practically our whole lives, our mother's being professional quidditch players and all; they even used to play on the same team. Mum bought me a new broom for the start of year, it was a real beauty too – a God's Speed! My brother has one just like it that he got for Christmas last year. It's pretty much the fasted broom in the world and certainly looked better than the practice brooms the other first years had in front of them. They were worn and shabby, they're bristles sticking out in every direction.

"I'm so jealous," Ivar grumbled, practically drooling over my broom.

"I told you I would let you fly it after I'd been once." That seemed to cheer him up.

"SHHHHHH," Molly said with an indignant expression on her face. "Some of us are trying to learn."

"I'm surprised you need to, seeing as you seem to know EVERYTHING!" I said to her, sticking out my tongue.

"HMPH" Molly turned away from me, her hand shot up in the air. Oh no, that little tattle better not –

"Pardon me Madam Hooch, I was only wondering if you could repeat what you just said. I couldn't hear over their talking." She looked back at me haughtily. My mouth fell open – this was low, even for her.

"Since you seem to be an expert, why don't you mount your broom and give us a demonstration, Ms. Weasley." Madam Hooch was standing right in front of me, looking down at me with big brown eyes. The rest of the first years snickered, excluding Ivar and Christie, of course. Christie, who practically had to pick up her broom because it refused to come when she said "up", looked terrified for me. I was not one to be laughed at. If she was going to challenge me, so be it. I guess I was lucky it was quidditch not history of magic, this morning I couldn't tell the difference between the Goblin's independence and the Elf rebellion.

"If you're sure Miss." Madam Hooch puffed up, smiling.

"A clean line down the center of your class mates should do the trick," she said in a voice that sounded like she didn't think I could do it.

"I'll do you one better!" As soon as the words left my lips I zoomed up into the air, knocking Molly over with the impact of my waking wind. I grinned then steadied myself. This broom certainly was fast and harder to control than Fred's hand me down Nimbus 3000 that I'd practiced with at home. Once I was sure I had my balance in the air, I pressed the broom forward, circling the entire pitch. There were cheers and clapping coming from the watching first years. If it's a show they want, it's a show they'll get; I decided to weave in and out of the three quidditch hoops then touch down on the ground.

My return was greeted with cheers and pats on the back, even from Madam Hooch, who was clapping primly at the end of the line.

"Well done, very well done. Perhaps someone else wants to give it a go?" She looked around, Ivar's hand shot right up. "Perhaps someone who doesn't have a professional quidditch player as a parent. Ah… Christie Simmers, how about you?" Her eyes went wide.

"I would really rather not Madam. Please."

"Oh it's simple dear, just mount your broom and give it a slight kick off the ground." Christie's porcelain face went deep red within seconds. She couldn't even mount her broom, she went to sit on it but it shot forward as she tried, sending her to the ground. Everyone laughed. Tears started to well in her eyes, she looked at me for help.

"Madam Hooch, may I please take Christie to the bathroom?" I said in a hurry.

"Oh yes, yes right thinking, Weasley. Be on your way."

It must have been my lucky day or something because after my first potion class with Professor Slughorn, I was escorted to Professor McGonagall's office to discuss my being moved up to level two. McGonagall told me that they almost never moved students up in classes due to the lockstep of each year. But, thankfully, first years had a study hall during the second year potions slot and I was able to switch into their class. I think the best part about this recent development in my Hogwarts career was the look on, my cousin, Molly's face when she found out – not the most studious witch in the family now, was she? Ok, so maybe she was but that didn't change the fact that I was moved up and not her. My mum was over the moon excited when I owled her; potions was her thing, you see, and she had taught me absolutely everything I knew.

"How's are little 'know it all' doing today?" Fred said as he sat next to me in the dining hall the next day at lunch.

"Yeah, Rox" James continued on the other side. "Word around the street is there's a new_Molly _in the family." I recoiled with a horrified expression on my face.

"Bite your tongue, James Potter." I said, put out. Christie and Ivar giggled across from me at the table – some friends they were.

"Ooh touchy," Fred said to James. "Dad owled me and told me to remind you that as his children we have a legacy of cool we have to maintain and potions nerd doesn't fit the esthetic." Christie gasped.

"Did your dad really say that?" She obviously wasn't akin to George Weasley humor.

"Probably." I grumbled to her, crossing my arms in a pout. Ivar patted me on the shoulder.

"Hey, cheer up. You can't be too big of nerd if your rubbish at transfiguration."

"Thanks," I sarcastically spat, giving him a dirty look.

"What happened in transfiguration?" James and Fred said in unison, their eyes alight with curiosity.

"None of your – "

"Your sister, here, decided it wasn't necessary to do the assigned reading before the first day of class and things didn't turn out too well." Christie answered Fred and James. "The pencil she was working with ended up flying across the room, almost hitting the professor in the eye." James and Fred erupted with laughter.

"Oi Christie, whose side are you on?"

"Hey," Christie continued, looking at me sympathetically. "Honestly, I was just happy to find that you weren't good at everything." This made Fred laugh even louder.

"Trust me, she's not." I stuck my tongue out at my brother. "I'm sorry, we haven't met, I'm Fred – this is my cousin, James." James smiled in Ivar and Christie's direction. Her porcelain cheeks went bright red again.

"I'm, uhh" She stammered, Ivar had to hit her in the ribs with his elbow. "Owe. Oh, I'm Christie Simmers," she extended her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Christie, I'm sure we'll see you around," James said, then turned to me. "Hey, you ready? We should probably start heading to potions soon."

"Yeah," I said standing from the table, a little nervous flutter in my stomach. Fred's face contorted in a frown as he pinched my cheeks.

"They grow up so fast, don't they James?" He sang mock melancholy.

"One day she's in potions one, the next she's in potions two with me," James continued. He put his arms around my shoulders.

"One day she's my cool little sister, the next day… she's just my little sister!" I slapped Fred's hand off my cheek and marched away from them.

"Oh, come on, Rox, we were just kidding. It's gonna be great having you in my class!" James shouted. I turned around and sneered at him when I ran smack into someone, almost falling down.

"Watch it, Weasley, other people walk here, you know." It was Finnian, the Slytherin from my first night here.

"Watch yourself, Parkinson" I spat back. Continuing in my pursuit out the great hall.

By the time I reached the dungeons for potions, James had apologized and was far too invested in my little squabble with Finnian Parkinson.

"Do Fred and I need to take care of him for you?" He asked taking out his wand in mock chivalry.

"No, I do not need you to take care of anyone for me. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." James responded, leading me into the classroom. "But what did he do? I mean, you've been in school less than three days and you already have a feud."

"He was talking bad about our family," I said defensively. "He said he doesn't like all the attention we get because our parents saved the wizarding world or whatever. "

"Doesn't surprise me," James whispered in my ear when we sat down. "My Dad told me that his Mum, Patsy… no Pansy, was in his year and she was foul. Said she was rooting for the other side during the war. I would be pretty bitter too if that was my legacy."

"You have something you want to say to my face, Potter?" Finnian said from behind us. When did he show up? He looked livid. James, however, looked a little embarrassed – not that he would ever admit that to Finnian.

"Only I heard you were talking bad about my family, Parkinson. Like mother like son –" But before James could finish, Finnian had his wand up against his throat.

"DON'T SAY A WORD ABOUT MY MOTHER!"

"Wand down Parkinson! This is my fault, not his," I said, feebly pointing my wand at him, even though I didn't know any spells yet.

"And what are you going to do with that, Weasley, poke me to death," Finnian said, still in his rage. "Wait, what are you even doing here?" I flushed – full on Gryffindor crimson cheeks.

"They – uhh – moved me up a level in potions," I said. He scoffed.

"Figures, you Weasleys and Potters always getting special treatment." He practically spat in my face. I went even redder as I noticed that the whole class had crowded around to watch. James took out his wand while Finnian was distracted, countering the threat.

"Lay off her, Parkinson."

"Alright, alright, I've seen enough," Slughourn said in a deep, terrifying tone. "Wands down! Neither of you were even thoughts in your parent's heads during the war so I don't see any reason for you to be bringing it up in my classroom. Now, everyone take their seats." No one dared argue. The whole class scrambled to find their place. The room was completely divided, all the slytherin second years on one side while Gryffindor second years (plus me, of course) sat on the side nearest me and James. Slughorn looked at us all disapprovingly.

"Nope, nope, nope, we aren't doing this this year," he said. The classroom looked around confused. "None of this separate sides, rivalry rubbish. Everyone take a slip of paper and write your name on it, then put it in this cauldron." We all begrudgingly did as we were told.

"Now, whoever's name I pull out of this cauldron alongside yours is your partner for the remainder of the year and who you will be sitting next to during class." There were an array of whispers of outrage from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor sides. "No complaining, am I understood? Maybe you'll get to know each other and stop this ridiculous war between houses.

"Bret Rivers and Elsinore Creevey," Slughorn announced.

"Lucky gits, they're both in Gryffindor." James said in my ear irritably next to his Slytherin partner, Mathilda Goyle.

"Finnian Parkinson, your partner is – "Slughorn reached in for another name, he smiled darkly before reading it aloud. "Roxanne Weasley!"

"Perfect," I muttered under my breath, as I went to take my seat next to Finnian. He didn't say a word to me when I sat down, just huffed and moved his books over a smidge. This was going to be a long year, I thought to myself.

"Now that that's sorted," Slughorn said, rather pleased with himself. "Let's talk about your lesson for today." I took out my notebook and quill, ready to take notes.

"Swot," Finnian said beside me. I took the highroad and ignored him. Also, I didn't have a comeback.

"Your first assignment is to work with your partner to create a sleeping drought according to your instructions in your potions level two books. I will be checking them at the end of class. Good luck!"

I went to grab my book, but I remembered that I only had level one and my mum was owling me the second later. I raised my hand.

"Ahh, what can the talented Roxanne have to ask?" Slughorn said, making me blush. I heard Finnian snicker beside me.

"Professor, I haven't gotten my book yet."

"I'm sure your partner wouldn't mind sharing, given that he's already lost 30 of our house points." Slughorn said, giving Finnian a menacing stare, he was the Slytherin Professor, after all. Finnian gave a grumble in reply.

"Look," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about the stuff James and I were talking about." He made no moves to look at or acknowledge me. "I'm not saying we have to be friends or anything, but we do have to work with each other and I really like potions and I don't want to spend the whole year fighting and – "

"Merlin Weasley, do you ever shut up?" He was speaking to me – that was an improvement. I just smiled apologetically in response. He took out the potions book and set it in between us. I opened it to the right page and began gathering the ingredients in silence. Finnian wasn't helping but he wasn't inhibiting me either so I decided not to say anything about it.

The potion wasn't too difficult but it was certainly harder than the first year stuff I was doing yesterday.

"I didn't take you for the kind of girl that goes running to their cousin to solve problems for her." Finnian finally said while I tried, unsuccessfully, to remove the wings from a live beetle.

"I didn't. He asked because of the way _you_ snapped at me when I ran into you earlier."

"Likely story," he said lounging back in his chair, making no move at all to assist me.

"Why don't you go back to not speaking," I said irritably. He let out a low chuckle that set my teeth on edge. "Grrrrrrr!" I growled when the beetle escaped my grasp again.

"Imobulus," Finnian lazily enchanted and the beetle was frozen in space.

"Thank you," I said under my breath as I began to remove the wings with some tweezers and place it in our cauldron.

"It was just pathetic watching you struggle," he said amused.

"So be it." I began to stir the concoction with a slight flick of my wrist, the way my mum taught me was best for thicker potions.

"So you're really good at all this potions stuff, huh?" He said without sarcasm, much to my surprise.

"I guess."

"I'm not," he said honestly. "Barely passed last term."

"Great," I said. I smelled the potion and yawned, signifying it was done.

"Look Weasley," he said, "I'm trying here." I took a deep breath.

"My mum is like really into potions and taught me a bunch of stuff when I was growing up. I'm not some swot or something." He smirked at me, looking up at me with his big stupid grey eyes. Who had grey eyes anyway, I thought frustrated.

"So, is it finished?"

"Should be – "

"Professor," Finnian began, "we're done!"

"We?" I said with gritted teeth.

"Thought you weren't a fink, Weasley."

"I'm not," I said haughtily.

"Alright then," he said with a satisfied grin. He really was too obnoxious for his own good.

Slughorn came over and inspected our potion; he stirred it around with the spoon then lowered himself to the potion to take in a whiff. He let out a big, uncontrolled yawn that brought an accomplished smile to my face.

"Very well done, you two. This is the best potion I've seen yet – it has a wonderful consistency. How did you manage that?" he asked us. I opened my mouth to answer but Slughorn stopped me. "I would like Mr. Parkinson to answer. It shouldn't be a problem since you assisted in the production of this potion. Correct?" Finnian was one of those guys who had a cool demeanor at all times, tactfully controlling his emotions and facial expression but in this instance, I saw a brief second of panic. It was such a human reaction that I actually felt sorry for the guy.

"Well we – uhhmm – funny thing, her mum actually taught her this trick –"quickly, while he vamped, I discreetly grabbed his arm underneath the table and taught him the stirring motion. "It would be easier if I just showed you." He continued, now better sure of himself, and did the stirring motion I'd just showed him. Slughorn smiled approvingly, thank Merlin.

"See," Slughorn said, "these partners were a splendid idea. One day with Ms. Weasley and you've already learned more than I was able to teach you all last term. Good work, you two." He left us at our station to go check another student's work.

"Thank you for the save," Finnian said when Slughourn was out of earshot. He took a deep breath. "I might have misjudged you a little bit based on your last name – "

"oh, you mean the same thing you got mad at James for doing not an hour ago."

"Look, kid, I'm trying to apologize here."

"I'm not a kid – you're _one _year older than me," I grumbled, "but sorry, continue." He grinned, reaching out his palm.

"Truce?" I took his hand.

"Truce."

"So, you given any thought to why you were sucked up into the floor?" Finnian asked as if he already knew the answer. Must he say everything with an air of superiority, I pondered. He was referring to my first night in Hogwarts when he had to save me from a first-year-swallowing-hole.

"My brother thinks it must have been Peeves playing a joke on me."

"Well your brother's stupid."

"Finnian!" I barked, to remind him of our truce.

"Sorry. It's just that you were right next to Slytherin's common room – where the Bloody Baron lives. Peeves wouldn't go near him, much less play a prank there." He collected his books and put them in his bag.

"Well then, what do you think did it?"

"Dunno." He said with a grin, swinging his bag over his arm and making his way to the door.

"Finnian wait –"

"Call me Fin," he said in an emotionless monotone that I couldn't, for a second, read. Then he walked out the classroom without another word. He didn't help me at all. Did he know what happened to me or didn't he? And why was he leaving mid conversation like that? Merlin, he was infuriating.


	3. Bowtruckes and Skeleton Heads

_Second half of first year: Roxanne is newly twelve years old_

Hogwarts life was better than I could have ever expected; I'd been there over half a year and I already had the two best friends a girl could ask for - Christie and Ivar. They didn't get along with each other too well in the beginning but being forced to spend time together when they hung out with me meant they eventually developed endearing respect for each other. Respect that, I am relieved to say, is now full on friendship. I don't want to take the credit but… you know, it goes where it's due. I also had my crazy cool older brother, Fred and my cousin, James, who had taken to showing us all the pranks you could pull on peeves and Filch. Last month involved an office full of toads, not that we got caught, of course, Dad taught us well. Sometimes, when Fred and I are feeling brave, we'll owl dad and say something like "Someone filled Filch's office with toads and he had warts for a week." Then Dad will say something proud an affectionate not connecting it in any way to the toads, but Fred and I know he knows and it's the best.

As far as classes go, I'm dreadful at transfiguration and History of Magic. I don't feel too bad about that last one though, because the only one I know who can stay up in that class is, Molly. Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts are so cool, I can actually do some spells now, not many, but some! Then there's flying and potions, my two best classes, Slughorn is so impressed with my work he keeps asking me and some of his other favorite students to have tea with him. Oh yeah, and Finnian (my mysterious potions partner), we are…civil. We definitely don't fight anymore and he still seems to operate under the illusion that he's like seven years older than me, even though it's just ONE, but we have a sort of system, I do all the work and he cuts up mint leaves and maybe even speaks a word or two every forty-five minutes – it's progress.

"CHECKMATE!" I yelled after successfully beating James in a game of Wizards Chess.

"Unfair," he grumbled.

"Sorry, Cus, that's how the game is played… so hand it over." I said confidently, waiting for James to hand me the Marauder's map. I hadn't won it for keeps or anything, but I planned to make good with the one night I had.

888

"Christie," I whined, bouncing on her four poster while she tried to paint her nails a sparkling gold.

"Hey, you're going to mess me up," she complained.

"Come one, forget about how you feel about the map and come have some actual fun." She shook her blonde, decided head at me.

"Nope. I refuse to take part in the use of any object that lets people know more than they ought to. Like hello, I can see the future; I know way more about people at this school than I ever wanted. I don't need a map to tell me that our professors are permanent residents of icksville. Sorry, all this seer stuff has got me totally squicked about it."

"I know but –"

"I'm not budging on this one, Hun."

"Ugh, being a seer is totally wasted on you." I said it as a joke but immediately regretted it. I knew she'd been having a tough time with it.

"Harsh, Rox. You try knowing totally terrible stuff is going to happen all the time and not be able to tell your friends or family about it." Since Christie had started her private lessons with Firenze, she couldn't tell anybody, not even Ivar and I, about her visions. He says that 'occlumency is not a preventative measure but a warning and that the seer's job is to prepare the subjects of their prophecies for the inevitable not give them hope of another outcome.' In other words, she's got to hold in a bunch of really sad crap and it makes her anxious. It's a good thing Christie's a walking pot of sunshine because I don't think any other eleven year old could handle it, if I'm honest. The worst part is I can always tell when she knows something's going to happen to me because she looks at me with these sad puppy eyes. She'd been giving them to me all day. I swear, knowing but not knowing is torture.

"Sorry Christie."

"No worries, love. Hey, I'm sure you could get Ivar to go. He loves that sort of thing."

"I would, but he's having his "Boys Night" remember. We were given instructions not to disturb him." Christie giggled and nodded her head in remembrance.

"Oh yeah, we might of taken it too far with the hair last week." I laughed mischievously to myself. Christie was referring to the time when Ivar fell asleep doing homework in the common room and Christie and I took it upon ourselves to tie his affro into two, pink bowed pigtail puffs. He probably would have thought it a laugh if the Gryffindor quidditch team hadn't come in from late practice and had a not-so-nice laugh of their own.

"He still loves us," I said, shrugging my shoulders and hopping off Christie's four poster. She batted her long eyelashes at me.

"How could he not!"

After my unsuccessful attempt to get Christie involved in my Muarder's map adventure, I decided to go on another one of my solo excursions.

"I knew it!" I said to myself, looking at the map. In the stair well that lead up to the owlry was my brother and Ivar's sister, Jessa – alone. They are so busted. How could he not tell me? I was his cooler-than-average little sister. He was supposed to tell me everything. I was pondering all the ways I was going to get him back for this when I saw Finnian Parkinson's dot. Why was he pacing around the kitchens at midnight? He just didn't strike me as a late night snacker, you know. I had to investigate. In hindsight, I realize that nosiness is considered rude in most civilized communities but I just don't care.

As I edged closer to the opening of the kitchens I looked at the map again, just to make sure he was still there. Oh, he was there alright and heading straight for me. I ducked behind a long tapestry of a fat woman eating too much fruit and hoped to Merlin he hadn't seen me. I slowly, so as to not be heard, took out the map and chanced a look. Thank goodness, he'd paused outside the Kitchens. No movement towards me whatsoever. There was something else though, I squinted my eyes to see if it was just the dimness of the light or sleepiness catching up to me. But no – there was definitely little black skeleton heads appearing, disappearing and reappearing on the map near Fin. Who were these creatures and why were they making the map go all wonky. Oh and most importantly, why were they hovering around my potions partner? Of course, I had to check it out.

I peered my little curious head around the tapestry and in front of me, I was so close he could probably hear me breathe if I made the wrong move. I peeked at the map again, still fuzzy little skeletons heads present. The map showed ghosts, and I (as a witch) could see ghosts, so what were these creepy invisible things with no names? Finnian didn't seem to notice they were there or, at least, he wasn't acting like the kind of person that was hanging out with creepy, invisible skeleton heads.

In fact, the longer I looked, the more I realized he was somehow more somber than usual. His emotionless bravado gone, to be replaced by a downward look of… loneliness? No. It couldn't be. Fin enjoyed his annoying loner, Slytherin esthetic, didn't he? I watched him poor a copper liquid which I recognized as fire whisky, into a tall shot glass. He casually put his wand to the top of the liquid and said:

"Incendio," the whisky was engulfed in an orange flame. He lifted the glass in the air. "Happy Birthday to me!" He said morbidly putting the glass to his mouth and taking it down with a grunt and a wince. Merlin, I thought to myself, was this guy turning thirteen or forty five? He pulled out a rolled piece of parchment from his robes pocket and read silently. Oh what I would have given to see what was making him so angry in that moment. He crumpled the paper and stormed off in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

When he seemed a safe enough distance away, I practically ran to the paper he'd discarded, anxious to peer into the secret world that was, Finnian Parkinson. The top of the parchment had a professional looking Z sealed on the front.

_Finnian, _

_How dare you not show up tonight? You embarrassed me in front of the entire legion. They all came to see your induction and where were you? What was so important that you've managed to fuck up this badly? "R" is not as forgiving as I am. We talked about this; on your thirteenth birthday you stop having the option, I sealed your fate long ago. You will help us eventually whether you like it or not. Sometimes, I wonder if you're my son –_

I gasped as my hand grasping the letter seared with a pain like acid on my fingers. I dropped the parchment, clutching my charred fingers in an attempt to ease the burn. The letter convulsed on the ground, shriveling into itself until there was nothing left. With my heart beating a thousand beats a minute and a shaking, unburnt, hand I grabbed the map to see if Fin had caught me.

Fin was in his room._ I _was surrounded. Plain as day, the name Roxanne Weasley was surrounded by hundreds of black skeleton heads. An icy chill ran through me, I could feel them. I could hear the creaking wheeze of death at my ear. They were nowhere in sight, whatever they were. I wanted to cry, to scream but I was too afraid to do anything but plant myself silently in that spot.

"Roxy," A desperate whisper came from my right side. I jumped, stepping back; I was immediately infused with a lifeless chill. I shivered uncontrollably, my teeth chattering and lips cracking. "Roxanne, you have to get out of there. They can't touch you but you'll freeze if you don't move." I finally saw the worried face of, Christie, at the end of the hall. She was waving me near her. I gathered up all my Gryffindor strength and ran in her direction, feeling pang after pang of the invisible creatures. "Come on, this way." She grabbed my arm and pulled me in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

When we stepped inside the portrait hole, Christie shivered and stuck out her tongue like she'd tasted something disgusting.

"Don't you just hate the taste of death in the morning? Disgusting!"

"Christe, ww-what just happened? What were those things?" I gawked at her cavalier manner.

"I don't know," she said casually. She yawned. "I'm sleepy."

"CHRISTIE!" I yelled. She flinched, a hint of her tension peeking behind her seemingly indifferent features. "Could you see them?" I asked feebly.

"Not just now." What did that mean? Then, to my horror, I got it.

"You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" I accused. She said nothing which I took to be a confirmation. "You just sat there on your bed painting your nails and you let me go. What kind of friend does that?" She looked on the edge of tears which was an odd sight since smiles generally graced her porcelain face.

"Firenze said –"

"Bully Firenze!" I shouted.

"Look, I was there. I got you. You weren't hurt. I knew you wouldn't be hurt." She started to cry. I tried to pretend I didn't care. "I can't control what I see, I only get teeny tiny pictures. I can't tell whether an event in someone's life is important to who they become or who someone else becomes. So many terrible things could happen if I mess with destiny." I rolled my eyes and pushed passed her to the dormitory. I knew she was right, somewhere deep, deep down in the pits of my twelve-year-old stubbornness. But I was scared and angry and HOLY CRAP WAS FINNIAN APART OF SOME CULT?

I had forgotten with the whole almost being killed thing. That letter was sketchy right? … And a little depressing. Was that how his Mum wished him a happy birthday. Talk about pressure. I went to bed that night, head filled with a thousand and one questions. Who was that "R" thing in the letter and what was Fin supposed to do? Does it have anything to do with the skeleton heads? Does Christie know the answers to all of these questions? Was I too hard on Christie?

The next day in Potions, Fin looked as tired as I felt. I took my seat next to him wondering if he could feel the intensity at which I was thinking about him.

"What's with you, Weasley?" that would be a yes.

"huh. Nothing?"

"Well, that was convincing," he drawled. Why must everything he said to me be drenched with unwanted snark?

"Homework check, class," Slughorn said. "You know the drill; I call your name, you bring up your vials. Benamin, Creevey, Carmen… "I reached in my bag until I had wrapped my burnt hand around two small potion vials. One had a green bow around it. I smiled inwardly at what I was about to do.

"Happy Birthday," I whispered to Fin, passing him the bowed vial under the table. He looked over at me confused.

"How did you?"

"I'd take the bow off before you turn it in," I said.

"Why do I even try," Slughorn huffed, "Parkinson?" He breathed not expecting much. Fin stood to hand in the potion and Slughorn looked like he was going to choke on his double chin? "Do my eyes deceive me? What is this, the first time all term?"

"And it will be the last if you keep on griping about it," Fin shot back.

"Watch your mouth, boy," Slughorn warned. "Take your seat."

"If you made that potion, he'll never believe I did it," Fin mused when he sat back down.

"Don't worry," I said, as I got up to turn my own in. "Yours is nowhere near as good as mine." Then I saw it, the expression he couldn't hide. I, Roxanne Weasley, had, despite his attempt to hide it, gotten Fin to smile. A real smile, not a judgmental smirk.

"Where yeh going?" Christie asked on my way out the portrait hole that night. I didn't have a death wish or anything; it was just that I'd been waiting my whole life for an adventure and one plopped in my lap. I couldn't, very well, run scared.

"Don't you already know," I said snidely, slamming the portrait door behind me. "Bloody Hell!" I gasped when I was on the other side of the hole. Fin was standing there, hands in his cloak pockets, like it was normal for him to be hanging out outside the Gryffindor common room.

"Don't be so jumpy, Weasley."

"Ugh, what are you even doing – Oh… Fin, were you waiting for me?" I ask him knowingly.

"No," He scoffed. He's a bad liar for a slytherin. "I just figured if we were both going to be out after hours we might as well be together. It's just practical in't."

"So, you _were _waiting for me." I smiled. "I caught you Fin; you want to be my frie-eend," I sang.

"Come on, Weasley," He said, grabbing my hurt hand to pull me along.

"sss," I hissed at the sting, pulling my hand away. He furrowed his dark eyebrows and looked down at my hand. He didn't look at me, I swear, for another five minutes as we walked in silence. Did he know? Had I been found out? It was always so hard to tell with him.

"How far d'you get before it scorched you?" He said after a while.

"Huh?"

"The letter?" He said calmly.

"Oh," I looked at my shoes, embarrassed. "Uhm… I'm sorry I –"

"How far?" he asked again, just as calm. Too calm, I had a nervous felling he was taking me to his evil master to kill me or something.

"Disappointed mother, end of paragraph one," I said honestly. He laughed a short laugh.

"You barley grazed it."

"I read slow," I felt the need to defend myself.

"Good."

"I got enough, though." I said bravely because he didn't seem to be that mad and because even though I was found out I was dying to ask him all my questions. "So, what's "R"?" I waited but he didn't say anything. He continued walking forward in our path. Which, let me add, I was following blindly for some strange reason because Finnian Parkinson had given me absolutely no reason to trust him. "What did your mother mean that you would have to help them? Is them "R"? Or is "R" the legion?" Again, no answer. "Does all this have to do with the hole that tried to swallow me and the creepy skeleton heads?"

"Skeleton heads?" He paused, even stopped walking.

"It speaks," I teased.

"The Skeleton heads?" He repeated, without change. He did that a lot.

"Yeah, the death thingys" He narrowed his eyes on me.

"Wait, you can see them?" He asked.

"Not exactly. You see there's this map – wait a second, I'm not talking if you're not?" I said standing tall and walking again even though I had no idea where we were going.

"Fine," he said.

"Right, now can _you_ see them?" I asked expecting an answer. I, of course, did not receive one. I sighed audibly. "Why didn't you go to the induction thingy?"

"Catch on, Weasley, I'm not talking. Pick a new subject. You never shut up so I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Why are you always so mean?" I pouted. It was all very uncool.

"Why do you stalk people and read letters that don't belong to you?"

"Point taken." We walked outside the Castle and the cold hit me instantly. It was February, snow was on the ground for Merlin's sake. "W-where are we going?" I shuddered.

"The dark forest," It was the first straight answer he'd given me all night and I didn't like the sound of it.

"Excuse me?"

"Not scared are you?" I huffed, I was Gryffindor. What was he…challenging me? Well challenge accepted Mr. elusive boy.

"Of course not! It's just, not allowed."

"Neither is being out of bed after hours," he replied smartly. "Or filling Filtch's office with toads." I looked up at him, surprised. How did he know? "Nice one, by the way," he added. It was a good thing my cheeks were already red from the cold because, boy would I have been blushing like – well like a twelve year old girl.

"Thanks," I said, wrapping my cloak around myself to ward off the cold winter air.

"You coming or not?"

"Yeah," I said, not thinking before I answered. He looked at me like he was impressed or proud or something belittling like that. Ugh, how typical.

"Come on then," he broke into a run. "We'll warm up if we sprint," he shouted from the distance. I started running to keep up. My lungs promptly felt warn and frozen.

"I'm not much of a sprinter," I swallowed ice cold saliva. It was gross. "I'm more of a flyer."

"Keep up, Weasley," he called ahead of me. I grumbled and forced my aching legs to move faster.

"You can breathe again," he said laughing. "We're here."

"Don't make fun of me, it's like zero degrees out here." I breathed heavy, a little embarrassed but in too much pain to care.

"You're warmer though, aren't you?"

"Yeah, with the side effect of my lungs being on fire."

"Shh!" Did he just shush me? "You'll scare them away," he said in a quiet tone.

"We are in the middle of the dark forest. I'd like to scare a lot of things away," I nervously whispered as the exhaustion went away and the realization that I was surrounded by huge dark trees, probably home to some of the most fearsome creatures in the wizarding world, set in.

Fin smiled at me and pulled a bag full of a disgusting bugs out of his pocket. I peered at it with a deep frown.

"Ewe!"

"Don't be such a girl," he chastised.

"Don't be such a boy," I countered. "Why do you have a bag full of termites in your pocket?"

"They aren't termites, they're tree lice," he said, like that wasn't more disgusting. "It's an offering, so they know they can trust us," he said in another whisper. He bent down, low to the ground, I did the same.

"They who?" But before he could answer me, a little squadron of hand sized, bark- skinned, creatures walked cautiously toward us. They were funny little things. They stabbed at the insect bag with long, sharp fingers, skewering and encasing them in their wood-like mouths that I found, oddly cute. I giggled and looked over at Fin. He was smiling too, despite himself. Another real smile. Wow, I thought, twice in one day. He seemed like a completely different person like this, for starters, he actually looked like a kid.

"What are they?" I asked.

"Bowtruckles," he responded. He edged closer, letting one walk on his outstretched hand and on to his shoulder. "Come on, don't let the sharp fingers fool you. They're actually quite gentle."

"It's not them," I said pulling my mess of brown curls up into a bun. "Are the bugs all gone?" I asked. So I wasn't a bug person – call the tomboy police. He smiled again but this time it was the smirk. That expression was beginning to become more annoying than my cousin Molly.

"Its tree lice not hair lice. But they're gone." I took a deep breath and came to sit by him in bowtruckle heaven. I was quickly leapt on by many a truckle, who had taken to hiding in my pockets and seeing if I could find them.

"They're so friendly," I gushed.

"We fed them so…owe – careful," he said to one that poked him in the head with a sword finger.

"Yeah, about that. Did it have to be tree lice?" He grinned.

"No, they also like fairy eggs," he said smartly. My eyes got big with distress.

"Oh no – sad!"

"Exactly." I nodded my head.

"Tree lice it is then." I giggled again when a bowtruckle tickled my side. Fin stared at me with a weird expression I couldn't read. Boys, am I right?

"So," he said. "You have a boyfriend?" I looked at him like he was crazy.

"UH No. I'm barely twelve," I answered, because duh. He rolled his eyes at me then perked up.

"Twelve? When was your birthday?"

"It was a couple months ago, during winter holiday."

"Well, happy birthday." He said awkwardly.

"You too," I replied. We were quiet for a few seconds. "Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked after a while. He sighed haughtily.

"I have a couple," he replied. I believed him too. When he wasn't off skulking to himself, he was always talking to some Slytherin girl. Actually, he was being talked at by Slytherin girls. The conversations, as are most with Fin, looked pretty one sided. Not that I had given a lot of thought to these encounters. I just had taken to gathering up information about him wherever I could because until tonight he hadn't told me a single thing about himself. Tonight though, he had let me into his secret world. I smiled at the thought.

"What?" he asked at my blatant staring.

"Nothing. I just didn't know you liked creatures so much."

"Well I do," he said defensively.

"I didn't mean it as an insult."

"Oh yeah, well this is what I do when you're in the castle at night about to get yourself killed."

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" I flipped. He flashed me the most knowing grey eyes I'd ever seen. Then looked down at my burnt hand. I smiled weakly.

"Oh…right."

Fin and I stayed up, playing with bowtruckles and talking until I began to see the sun rise through my almost closed lids. When I got back to my room I slept almost my whole Saturday away. But when I finally did get my lazy bum out of my four poster, I made an express trip to the common room to find Christie. I was getting bored of the whole being mad at her thing. Also, I really wanted to tell her and Ivar about the bowtruckles and about how I had managed to become friends with the Slytherin recluse.


	4. Last Impressions

_Roxanne is 12, the last day of first year _

Here's the thing about curly hair, you have like a ten-minute window to style it the way you want before air hits it and it's stuck like that for the rest of the day. Given that I couldn't give a hippogriff's feathery behind what my hair looked like until a few months ago, today's need for mane maintenance was not going well. You see, it was the morning I got on the train to go home after my first full year at Hogwarts. This was the last time everyone was going to see me for probably the whole summer and I didn't want to leave them with a bad taste of messy bun in their mouth.

"Come on Roxanne, you know you're taking too long when I beat you out of the bathroom," Christie, of all people, complained. This was coming from the girl that was almost late to one of her examinations because her pigtails were uneven.

"We all weren't born with your silky straight rays of sunshine Chris, you're gonna have to a lot me a little more time." She looked at me in the mirror with an overly satisfied expression.

"All this primping wouldn't have to do with a certain, brooding Slytherin you spend almost every night with, does it?" I look at her through the mirror with eyes that could burn through the wall – thank you Mum for that inherited expression.

"Fin and I are just friends, besides, I probably won't even see him today – "

"But in case you do, you want to look amazing," she winked. "I get it!"

"Christie I'm twelve, I am much too young to be thinking about Fin as my boyfriend." She gave me another knowing smile.

"Who said anything about boyfriends? I just think you like him, which by the red in your cheeks, you obviously do."

"Keep quiet about it, will you? I'm not even sure I understand it yet, it's all so bloody complicated. I just like hanging out with him – OK?" She did a little locking motion over her mouth with her perfectly manicured fingers.

"There's no shame in having a crush Rox," Christie recited wisely.

"Does that mean you're ready to admit you fancy…Ivar." I almost choked on the last word, it was too hard to say with a straight face. Ivar and Christie could barely be friends without blasting each other's heads off, forget more than that.

"Ugh puke!" Christie responded with a gagging motion. "Why would you say that before I'm about to eat." I laughed. "No, I've set my sights much higher than the likes of," she stuck out her tongue in a barfing motion, "Ivar Jordan."

"And who may that be," I said, rolling my eyes but secretly super curious.

"James Sirius Potter," She gushed, to my disgust.

"As in my cousin?" I halted all movement, hair be damned this was a full on tragedy. First off, James was my cousin so…eww. Second of all, James was an impossible flirt, always playing up the 'my Dad's the chosen one' bit, witches never even got within dating distance of him before he was on to the next one. I mean he was practically the _Fin _of Gryffindor. I loved him, but he was the worst.

"The one and only," She hummed dreamily.

"You do know he treats girls like rubbish?" I persisted.

"Yeah, I know. But he's awfully nice to me."

"That's because he doesn't know you like him yet." But she hummed on despite my protests, letting me know to save my breath.

"Anyway," Christie said after the subject was dropped, "don't you think we should get to actually meet Finnian. Like, Ivar and I are your best friends and we know nothing about your secret life with him." I crossed paths with her out of the bathroom and into our dormitory to change, without a response. I didn't know how to tell her that he was mean and moody and would probably laugh directly in my face at the suggestion.

"I don't know Chris – "

"You're not ashamed of us are you?"

"No, that's not – "

"Good! Ask him to sit with us on the train home." She promptly ran out the room before I could stop her. How typical Christie, and she'd have my wand if I didn't comply. I grumpily put on my favorite pair of jeans and my Mum's vintage Weird Sisters graphic tee (that I was absolutely obsessed with) and reviewed myself in the mirror. Pretty good, for a twelve-year-old girl about to enter into her awkward years, I assessed. So I wanted Fin's summer image of me to be the cool girl he hung out with in the dark forest not the frizzy haired swot he sat next to in potions. Was that really so bad? Not if I ignored the fact that he could be in cahoots with some skeleton heady evil. I breathed a deep, exasperated sigh – why did my first crush have to be totally bad news?

When I finally made way down to the great hall, I did my best to, as discreetly as possible, turn my gaze to the Slytherin table to see if Fin was there. He wasn't sitting in his usual spot in the back corner…not that I looked over at him much.

"Who are we looking for at the Slytherin table?" Said an unmistakable voice that made me blush to my toes with embarrassment.

"Merlin, Fin what are you doing here?" I said nervously turning around to look at him. He was wearing a blue tee shirt, grey, baggy cargo pants and a look that told me I was busted.

"Apparently helping you stalk me, Weasley. Thought it'd be easiest if I was already talking to you."

" ," mocked with the most flippant tone I could muster in my current predicament. "I wasn't stalking you, Parkinson. I swear your ego is a big as you are rubbish at potions." He laughed his real laugh, the one that made me want to run from his presence and scribble Mrs. Finnian Parkinson all over my parchment.

"I passed actually," he said, eyes alight with pride. I looked at him suspiciously.

"Not possible. I thought you told me Sloughorn said the only way you'd pass was if you aced the exam." Fin nodded his straight black head of hair. Swoon.

"And I did, you have so little faith in me."

"Umm – I talked to you the night before that final and you thought a bisour was the old English word for mistress."

"Bisour… Paramour – the two are easily confused," He said dismissively.

"Fin," I practically whined. "Come on, tell me, how'd you pass?"

"Easy. You did all the work for the practical and I copied your paper for the written." I couldn't even be mad at him, I was too focused on not giggling myself to death.

Crushes are the absolute worst. They're all well and good until you finally admit it to yourself. That's when everything becomes a confusing mess of 'why is he suddenly talking in code,' and 'is it possible to blush to death'. I could kill Christie for opening my eyes to my stupid going-to-ruin-everything feelings I unfortunately had for the unabashed paper-copier in front of me. Now I couldn't have a simple conversation without feeling like I simultaneously wanted to run away and glue our feet together. Oh, brother –

"Whatcha staring at, Weasley?" Your beautiful grey irises!

"Huh? What. I wasn't – "loud swallow. Deep breath. Then start again. "Did you maybe want to, you probably won't want to…you don't have to – I mean you don't have to do anything you don't want to do?" Smooth.

"Was there a question in there?" Smirk, he was smirking. At a time like this. He really was the foulest first crush in the history of preteens. Alright, I instructed myself, let's try this again.

"I was wondering if – "then I felt it, the cold, lifeless presence of the weird skeleton heads. I'd been feeling them a lot since my unfortunate encounter in February, but this was the first time I'd felt them in the presence of so many people. Not to mention the terrifying fact that I could tell their numbers had increased since the time with the – Oh no.

I ran off, out of the great hall, towards the energy of my, not-so-friendly skeleton heads.

"Roxanne, wait," Fin said, catching up to me.

"Someone's in trouble," I told him desperately, turning the corner and almost running into an armored night. Fin, thankfully, caught my hand in time.

"You can still feel them, can't you," he questioned, looking perturbed. He had a firm hold on my wrist preventing me moving.

"Yes."

"Dammit Weasley, why didn't you say anything?" Finnian Parkinson was at that moment displaying more emotion than I had ever seen. His eyebrows pulled so tightly together, a bed of wrinkles marred his thirteen-year-old forehead. Was he mad or worried, I couldn't yet tell?

"I told you, if you weren't talking, neither was I – remember." He let go of my wrist and combed his hair back with his hand.

"This isn't a joke, OK. You could get hurt." Mad. He was most definitely mad. And treating me like a stupid kid, as always.

"I know it's not a joke," I spat in the high register my voice took when I was upset. "The last time I felt their energy this strong, a house elf was so cold he almost…" I could feel the warmth in my cheeks, the unmistakable crack in my voice. Don't you dare cry, Roxanne. "We have to hurry," was all I managed before running away again, hoping to Merlin he was following me.

"Salazar's bleeding – "he said when he turned the corner and saw what I saw. Shivering in, what could only be described as a cloud of deep despair, was Hufflepuff first year, Alice Longbottom. Her lips were blue and frozen shut, though she looked like she was trying to speak, cry out maybe. Her eyes were shut tight against her attackers.

"Isn't that Professor Longbottom's – "Fin began. I slowly nodded my head, recognizing her round, pasty face from countless DA reunions and family parties.

"Fin, we have to do something."

"No shit."

"This is so not the time for your attitude." He took a deep breath and gave me an apologetic expression, though he couldn't actually say the words.

"We should go get a teacher," he reasoned.

"Look at her, we don't have time for that," I protested. I gathered up every ounce of my family's brave blood and used it to propel my foot forward into the cold depths of skeleton heads.

"You can't just go in there. They'll remember you interfered."

"I have to. Fin, I've known her practically my whole life," I continued forward. It was ten thousand times worse than the last time I'd gone through the death creatures. The air felt thick like tar as I tried, unsuccessfully to move quickly towards Alice.

"Why are you moving so slowly? Run!" Fin shouted to me.

"They won't let me," I answered back with a shaky voice.

"Homenum Revelio," I heard him enchant behind me. I saw them. Blue, gaunt human forms holding on to me at all sides. Thin, almost skeletal hands tried to prevent me access to Alice. A scream threatened to rip from my throat but another hand enchased my open mouth, swallowing my cries. I flailed about, eyes wide with the most fear I'd ever experienced. My innermost nightmares began to feel like reality in my head. _You'll amount to nothing. You don't have half the talent or the bravery of the rest of your family. A pathetic imitation of a witch, much less, a Weasley. _Frozen tears stung my eyes, making Alice a blur in my vision. I stopped moving, the crippling thoughts in my head overpowering my will to move. _Perhaps it would be best to just – give up. _

"Roxanne," I heard a distant yell. The fuzziness in my head dissipated only to be replaced with a warm tingling in my chest. 'That voice is nice,' I thought to myself. It took his hands on my shoulders to shake me out of my daze.

This time, my scream echoed throughout the halls. I saw Fin sigh with relief before dragging me towards Alice. The creatures surrounded her like they'd surrounded me, keeping her immovable in her fetal position. They didn't seem to touch Fin though. Even after we hoisted her over our shoulders and pulled her free of their chilling grasps, they avoided him as if he was some kind of human shield against them.

It wasn't until we made it back to the knight in shining armor that we realized the death creatures weren't following us.

"It's alright," Fin assured, "they're gone. They don't have enough energy to follow us anymore." I looked at him with questioning eyes, still unable to form words. "Later. Right now we have to get her to the hospital wing." I nodded my head feebly and kept moving.

When we'd finally arrived, my arms and legs were worn and ragged from dragging Alice half way across the castle. But the pain in my aching limbs didn't compare to the residue of despair that lingered within me. I didn't really know what happened to me back there, but whatever it was searched my soul and brought to surface the thoughts I kept hidden even from myself.

"Great Gillyweed!" Madam Pomfrey gasped at the look of Alice. "What's happened to her?"

"Don't know. We found her like this," Fin answered before I had a chance to consider telling the truth. Madame Pomfrey looked to me to confirm. I shook my head in alliance with Fin.

"Poor dear," Pomfrey stated, helping us carry her to a bed. "Where'd you find her?"

"Near her common room, a bit away from the kitchens. I expect she was headed to the Great Hall for some breakfast." It wasn't until I heard Fin say it that I realized she was attached in the same place I found Fin and the letter. The same place I saw the house elf before it got hold of itself and ran shrieking away.

"You carried her all this way?" She asked, sounding impressed. We nodded. "Well, you'll start next term with ten points earned for both your houses. Are you quite alright, yourself, Miss Weasley? You look like you could use a lie down."

"Just a bit of a shock," Fin answered for me again. Maybe he was a better liar than I thought. "Just needs a spot of breakfast and some pumpkin juice." Madam Pomfrey looked at me suspiciously. I did my best to give her a reassuring smile.

"Well, alright then. You'd better hurry, the carriages will be leaving soon."

"What the BLOODY HELL are those things?" I asked Fin once we were out of earshot of the hospital wing.

"I don't know, keep your voice down." he hissed.

"You're lying! What was all that rubbish about 'they'll remember you' and 'they don't have enough energy to' blah blah blah. You know a lot more than you're letting on and you need to tell someone. Those things are dangerous," I scolded him, not bothering to lower my voice.

"Don't be so dramatic, Weasley." He was so cold now. Back to his usual indifference but I knew better, I had seen the look of terror in his eyes when he saw Alice's body for the first time or when he was trying to wake me from my trance.

"Save it, Fin, you know I'm right. I don't know why you're pretending that you don't but I went from confident to suicidal within minutes back there and – "

"I can't tell you anything." He said genuinely. "I wish I could but I can't."

"That's not good enough," I pressed on. I was done with his secrets.

"They feed on fear, the more people know about them, the stronger they become. And once they know you know, they target you." I listened to him, hanging on to every word. "That's why you feel them so strongly, they've targeted you. I've been trying to avoid what happened this morning since you found out about them. It's why I always insist we go out of the castle at night." My head spun, he'd been protecting me all this time? And here I was thinking he just wanted to be my friend. Leave it me to be a little upset about a stupid thing like that.

"How do you know so much? Why don't they touch you?"

"Do you trust me, Weasley?" He asked, a curious expression on his face.

"Of course," I said without thinking, because I shouldn't. For all I knew he was some psycho. But, never the less, even after deeper reflection, my words still rung true – I trusted him.

"That's probably not smart," he stated honestly, without humor. I gulped. "But since you do, you're going to have to believe me when I say that I'm saving your skin not my own by not telling you." I looked at him, accepting defeat (for now).

"You want to sit with me and my friends on the bus home?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Can't," he answered smoothly as if everything was back to normal. "Promised Pimberly Nott I'd sit with her. Besides, I can't be seen hanging out with a bunch of Gryffindor first years can I?" He teased but it still made me deflate. Who was I kidding, he was just being a good guy, trying to save my life. He didn't consider me an actual friend, just a kid he could copy off of in potions.

"See you next term," I said somberly, making my way to the carriages. I didn't turn around to see if he was following me, or if he looked guilty. I figured if he wanted to redeem his himself, he would have called out to me or something. But he didn't, so I continued walking.


	5. The Burrow

_Roxanne is twelve years old_

"Rox, are you sure you're Ok?" My cousin Dominique asked for 30th time in mirror next to me. It was time for our welcome home dinner at the burrow. This was my first one after having actually been to Hogwarts and it was pretty much a bummer. "You didn't talk the whole train ride home or on the way to the burrow."

"I'm fine, Ok. Just go on ahead without me." I responded in a very short tone that did absolutely nothing to help my case. The squinty eyed look she was giving me in the second floor washroom mirror told me she wasn't buying it. But honestly, I didn't much care. I just found Alice Longbottom, a practical cousin of mine, passed out in the middle of a bleeding corridor. Not to mention that I tried to save her but failed without the help of mysterious I-know-everything-about-the-scary-happenings-but-won't-tell-you-about-them Parkinson. The boy who I thought was my friend but really was only_ Pimberly's_ friend and thought I was just some dumb little Weasley who needed his protection. I bet if I looked like Dominique he would want to be my real friend. Her and her stupid Veela blood. Her long ginger hair, as thick and flowing as her mother's and elder sister's. She had crystal blue eyes and a tall beautiful figure that I envied more than nearly headless nick did – well – headless ghosts.

I compared myself next to her; sure she was older but even when she was my age I was jealous. I took a good long look at my reflection. Nothing had changed, the same chestnut skin, round cheeks that dimple when I smile, big green almond shaped eyes like my Dad and a long, tangled curly mane like my Mum. It wasn't even Weasley red or Johnson/potter black, it rested in this light brown in-between that made me stick out like a sore thumb with the rest of my cousins. Then there was my 12-year old girl body, undiscernible from a 12-year-old boy's. Pimberly had boobs. Pimberly's eyebrows don't look like caterpillars! Ugh, when did I get so superficial? I shuddered and turned away from the mirror.

"Last chance Rox," Dominique began again, "We're gonna go to Aunt Ginny's old room and brag about Hogwarts to Rose and Lily."

"That's alright, I might catch up later," I said without any hope of doing so.

"What's going on up here," came the unmistakable sound of my mother's voice at the doorway.

"Something's wrong with Roxanne," my finky cousin Molly started," She says she's OK, but she's obviously lying."

"Nobody asked you, you little –"

"Roxanne." My mother interrupted in a firm yet amused tone.

As the other's left, Mum and I sat down on the washroom sink.

"Nice shirt," she said. I looked down, completely forgetting I was wearing the weird sister's shirt I'd stolen from her closet. I gave her an innocent, short lived smile. "So… you wanna talk about it." And Suddenly I was nine again and my big brother was leaving me behind to go to Hogwarts – I cried. Rested my head in my mum's lap while she combed through my curls and wept. "Roxy, my love, what happened?" I felt myself there, curled in my mother's lap and knew, I couldn't keep this to myself. I mean, bloody hell, I was only twelve.

"Mum,"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Let's go downstairs, this is something the whole family should hear."

Mum and I made our way into the Burrow's dining room, where my obscene amount of aunts and uncles sat and debated very animatedly about the olds days. It was funny, I see pictures and hear stories about them all on a regular basis, but it's something about them being in such close proximity to my grans cooking that makes them act like teenagers again.

"You dyed my hair pink!" My uncle Ron bellowed.

"Only for a weekend," Dad chimed. He turned to us when we'd reached the bottom of the stairs. "There are my favorite two non-redheaded witches in the world." Oh thanks for rubbing it in, Dad. "What's shakin bacon, what's with the face?"

"I don't know," I retorted. "You gave it to me."

"I see you also inherited my cheek, how charming." I sneered at him, sharing the seat next to him with Mum.

"After 'ol of these years, I steel never understand a vord they are saying." My Aunt Fleur said, referring to my father and me. After all this time, her accent was still as thick as ever. Mum says she's faking it for effect.

"Seriously Rox," Gran started. "Why aren't you up in your Dad's old room, looking for any leftover Wheezes prototypes with the boys? You love it in that pigsty he called a bedroom."

"Apparently," Mum began, "Roxy has something to tell us."

"Is it about a boy," Aunt Ginny burst with a huge smile on her face.

"A boy!" My dad, and my Uncles Ron, Percy, Bill and Charlie all shrieked with red, perturbed faces. Aunt Fleur chimed in with an "ooh la la."

"Aunt Ginny!" I whined, my cheeks getting a bit warm. "It's not about a boy. Not really, anyway." I told them all about the Marauders map and the skeleton heads. About the shivering house elf and, of course, Alice Longbottom. I left out, however, all mentions of Finnian Parkinson and his sketchy ways.

"Damn it, Roxanne. Why didn't you tell us sooner? You could have – " I never really saw my father this serious – ever. It scared me a little bit. His face was all scrunched up and blotchy like Granddad's when we steal his muggle pen collection.

"The important thing is that she is safe, right George," my mum said trying to calm him down. She looked a little worried and I didn't understand why.

"Something like this happens. You tell us, you understand me?" He was yelling. My father -George have-a-laugh Weasley – was yelling in my face. The whole room got quiet and with the day I had, I wanted to cry again.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I thought… I don't know. You all are constantly telling me those stories about your adventures at Hogwarts and I thought I could handle it."

"She's right George," Gran assisted. "You lot were exactly the same; had a slew of adults willing to help but you always insisted on going it alone. At least she's told us now, that's more than you and your brother ever did –"

"WELL THAT WORKED OUT REALLY GREAT FOR FRED, DIDN'T IT!" Dad shouted across the table. He marched off into the kitchen, leaving me to shake in the wake of his outburst. Everyone stared at their hands in silence.

"You best go after him Angelina, dear." Gran finally spoke. "You're the only one can talk to him when he gets like this." Mum nodded. She ran her hand down my hair and kissed me on the top of my head.

"I'll be right back, sweetie."  
"Poor Neville, he and Hannah spend enough time in St. Mungos as is," Aunt Ginny commented sadly.

"I'll send an owl when we're back," Uncle Harry agreed.

"Don't forget," Aunt Ginny chastised.

Meanwhile, my Aunt Hermione had her head buried in books, muttering to herself my description of the skeleton heads. Aunt Hermione slammed the book shut irritably.

"Hermione," Uncle Ron said cautiously.

"Well, it doesn't make sense, does it? The map only shows people, right?"

"And Mrs. Norris."

"The jury's still out on that one," Uncle Bill said to Uncle Charlie.

"True. I still think the old feline is the result of an animagus spell gone horribly wrong," agreed Uncle Charlie.

"You two aren't helping," Aunt Alicia said to her husband.

"Hey, it wouldn't be the first time. My rat was a Deatheater."

"Don't remind me," Uncle Ron groaned.

"Were there names on the map, Roxanne?" Aunt Hermione pressed on, ignoring them.

"No. Just creepy skeleton heads. And they looked like, like blue/white skeletal bodies that make your blood run cold." Uncle Ron shivered.

"Reminds you of a dementor, don'nt."

"Darling, you're brilliant!" Aunt Hermione said, kissing her husband on the forehead. You could practically see the cogs in her brain at work.

"Dementors don't show up on the map," Uncle Percy huffed, very proud of himself. I hated to agree with him, out of principle but –

"I've seen dementors," I said. "It didn't look like that. They were invisible, mostly. And when I could see them, they definitely didn't have cloaks, though they had that misery thing down." I said, remembering how horrible I felt when trying to go after Alice.

"I know it's not a dementor, but what if it's what came before. Magic and magical creatures evolved just like everyone else. Dementors started out as these horrifying little skeleton shells of the dead, gaining strength from people's insecurities. Eventually, this wizard came up with a device to make them visible, making them easier to kill. They got stronger and evolved into dementors."

"This is why I married her," Uncle Ron said impressed.

"If they've evolved, what are they doing back in their original form?" Uncle Harry questioned.

"I don't know. If I'm right about what they are, they haven't taken that form since the dark magic ruling."

"That's not even the worst of it," Aunt Ginny said, everyone turning to look at her. "You say they start out as dead bodies? Hogwarts is a graveyard."

_One month later_

Normally, I loved nothing more than spending every waking hour working at my dad's shop, but this particular summer, Molly, decided she needed work experience and Mum said she could organize some of the books a couple times a week (much to my obvious protest). The only positive outcome was Fred and I testing the pranks out on her, though we had to stop doing that because we weren't being very sneaky and dad actually had to punish us – lame.

"Ugh, I can't believe Uncle George sells things to students to help them skip class. Dad says it's deplorable. It's as if he doesn't want you to be successful." Molly said as she counted and did some funky math stuff with the puking pastilles. I had become quite zen about the whole thing. Me and my cat had mastered the art of ignoring her. Usually Mum or Dad were there to deflect my charming retorts but they were out to lunch, which meant I was alone with miss priss. And no, that is not the name of my cat.

Lucky, my pitch black kitty, was in his usual spot on the top of my head. He was meowing petulantly at Molly and I was rewarding him by letting him lick my grape flavored lollipop.

"On Merlin's old arse beard, please don't put that back in your mouth," said a voice from the front of the shop. We had been empty for a while and I jumped, causing Lucky to latch defensively onto my scalp.

"Owe!"

"Parkinson, what are_ you_ doing here?" Molly said, rudely with her hands on her hip.

"Do I know you?" he asked getting very close to her. I could tell it was making her sweat because her straight hair stuck to her neck like glue.

"I've heard things," she tried to say defiantly.

"All good things, I hope," he said turning to me for the first time. Merlin he looked good. He got tan, his hair had grown out a little and his eyes were somehow more grey and mesmerizing than I'd remembered. Pimberly, I reminded myself, he doesn't like you. "What, Weasley, you're gonna stare at me then not say hello."

"I w-was not staring," I stammered, sure he could hear my huge gulp.

"You're really cute."

"What?"

"I was talking to the cat on your head." He smirked, reaching out his hand to pet him.

"I'd be careful, he's very protective over me. Like Tinkerbelle!" He picked him up anyway, the furry trader purring in his arms like he was his long lost best friend.

"Did she just call you a fairy? That's not very nice," he said, talking to my cat in a baby voice. I snickered under my breath.

"I don't know what you're laughing at, Weasley, _you_ have cat hair." I looked at myself in the counter's glass reflection. I did, in fact, have frizzy cat hair. I quickly pulled my hair tie off my wrist and put my tangles in a quick ponytail.

"Thanks, Lucky," I grumbled giving him an evil look, he swished his tail in my face.

"That's a joke right, you named your black cat, Lucky?" Ugh he'd been here less than five minutes and he was already judging me.

"I thought it was clever at the time."

"And now?"

"Not so much," I said with a frown.

"Too bad, I kind of liked it." I could have cursed the smug look off his face but he was holding my cat. Also, I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school.

"So…Finnian Parkinson," Molly began. "How's life been since you and Roxanne-the-Hero dragged my lifeless friend around Hogwarts?"

"Molly, Alice is fine," I barked.

"Yeah, if you don't count the emotional scarring."

"How do you know – "Fin began. I almost died because knowing Molly she was about to –

"About the skeleton deadheads walking about Hogwarts? Oh it's big news around here. No one in the family can stop talking about it." Yup, she ratted me out.

"Don't you have something to geek, Molly?" I said through gritted teeth. She smiled, a wide satisfied smile and got back to inventorying.

"You told your family? What about secrets don't you understand? Isn't that part of your personal honor code or something?" I took a deep breath. I looked at Molly's perked ears than back at Fin.

"Can we talk about this upstairs?"

"Are you sure? We could have your cousin write down every word that we say then you can publish it in the Prophet."

"Are you done?"

"No… Yes, we can go upstairs."

"Thank you," I said sharp, marching in that direction.

"You aren't allowed to have people up there?" Molly called in a sing song voice.

"Well it's a good thing no one's here then."

"I'll tell Uncle George," she said defiantly.

"You won't. Or I'll tell everyone that I helped you study for your potions exam."

"You won't, you hate tattling," she said smartly, but looking a little worried.

"Take the chance. I dare you." I looked at her with the eyes Mum gives me and Fred when we're wearing at her patients.

"Grrr. Fine," she said, looking close to tears. I actually felt kind of bad for her. Kind of. "Is this how it's going to be? You're going to hold this over my head for the rest of our lives." I thought about it, thought about what my dad would do then said.

"No. Fair trade, secret for secret. Deal?" She nodded her head.

"I wouldn't trust her, other Weasley," Fin began. "She's really shitty in the secrets department lately."

"Just come on," I grumbled, leading the way again.

The flat above my dad's shop used to be where he lived before he had Mum, Fred and me. It was very homey even though Dad used it mostly as an office now and Fred used it mostly to have secret rendezvous with his girlfriend, Jessa Jordan – barf.

"I can't believe you told your parents. Do you know how dangerous this is? Your Uncle Harry's the bloody head of the Auror Department."

"What's your point, maybe they could help."

"Oh so they can save the day from the bad guys again?" I knew I shouldn't have laughed but Lucky was licking his eyebrow and I just couldn't help myself.

"I'm sorry, it's hard to take you seriously with – "

"You know, when they were your age they did it all by themselves, they didn't go running to mummy and daddy!" ow. That hurt, that stung like the backside of blast-ended skrewt. "Little Gryffindor ran scared."

"Stop it," I said, very maturely in a whiny sort of voice. He wasn't even angry, which made it worse. He was looking at me like I was pathetic. Just petting, Lucky, like he knew this was going to happen. "Hey," I said forcefully. "I _was_ scared, OK. And the only person that knew anything about it – you – wouldn't tell me anything, so I panicked and told my family. But they would have asked me eventually. They're really good friends with the Longbottom's. It was only a matter of time." I looked at him to gage his reaction. There was little change, but he wasn't making fun of me anymore. "I left out all the bits about you. All I said you was that you were walking by and helped me carry her to the hospital wing."

"You know what they are now?" He asked, trying to gage how much I'd figured out.

"Yeah. The Semivivus. Pretty eeky stuff." He didn't look or say anything to me, just nodded his head. "My dad came up with a way to beat them. That's good news, right?" Ha. Now he was interested, his freshly licked eyebrow raised, his grey eyes probing my brain for the answer.

"How?" I walked into the back hall closet where my dad stored his new inventions. I pulled out a huge brown box and brought it to the living room coffee table in the middle of Fin and I. I pulled out a yellow muggle disposable camera from within the box. "What's this shit?"

"They're weapons. They look like disposable cameras but my dad jinxed them to replicate the same spell they used in the dark ages to make the Semivivus visible. It's much easier to fight what you can see."

"Oh yeah, what have you ever fought, Weasley?" he said in his teasing tone. It was still annoying, but at least he didn't seem as mad.

"I fight with you a lot," I said, he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. I sat on the couch, becoming all too aware that we were alone in my brother's secret rendezvous place. Even though my hair was in a ponytail, I tucked the ghost of a stray strand behind my ear and broke eye contact.

"I'm not mad," he said, sitting next to me. "I'm just disappointed. I just thought this secret was _our _thing, you know?"

"But you never tell me anything." I countered, trying to make myself as small as humanly possible. I wasn't ready for all these hormones and feelings and butterflies. Why did I feel like I was going to throw up?

"How about we make a deal, huh?" I nodded my head as he moved closer. Words were pretty much useless at this point.

"Next term, I vow to keep you in the loop, if you promise to keep everything to yourself. When your parents ask, you say the Semivevus haven't been a problem anymore." I looked at him, all close and beautiful. Fred and I lied to our parents all the time, but never about big stuff. We told Mum and Dad everything and not because we had to, because we wanted to. It was a good system, I liked it. But also, I really liked Fin and his spiky hair that smelled like concentrated apples. It was good that I keep this from them, right? Dad's really sensitive about stuff like this anyway since Uncle Fred so… this is the right thing.

"Deal," I said nodding my head furiously to convince myself it was the right idea.

"Let's make it official," he said in almost a whisper, leaning in close to me. His arm snaked around my shoulder on the couch. My eyes widened and my throat felt like its inner cavities had swollen so large that I couldn't swallow.

"How's Pimberly?" I asked a bit manically, leaping from the couch and fiddling with the box of cameras. He leaned back on the couch, giving me a knowing smile. I wanted to die in hole.

"She's great. Her parents are really good friends with my mum and step dad so we get to spend a lot of time together."

"That's nice," I said, balling my hand into a fist so that my face would stay even.

"Yup, Daphne and Theo come over just about once a week."

"On a first name basis are you?" I wiggled my toes in my shoes, paced around the room, anything to not have to look at that smug expression on his face.

"Got to get in with the parents Weasley, that's the key?"

"The key to what?" I said with bite. I smiled to try and make up for it. It wasn't as smooth as it sounds, I assure you.

"Roxanne, you seem taller. Are you taller?"

"uh huh," I said, happy to jump into another conversation. "It happens in the summer. I mean I guess I'm growing all the time but this is the time when I do my usual taller-ing?" Merlin, why was I suddenly talking so much with my hands? "It's my genes. My dad's 6'2 and my mum's 5'9." Why was I talking so much, in general?

"Thanks for the facts."

"Your welcome." I was helpless. He smiled at me a little, which meant he had noticed how helpless I was.

"So what have you been doing this summer holiday?"

"Working at the shop and flying mostly. I'm going out for quidditch next year."

"That's unfortunate," he said, rolling his eyes. "What a useless sport."

"Have you ever even tried it?"

"Don't have to, to know it's overrated."

"Oooh I'm Finnian Parkinson. I have to live life on the outside of society so I can't like Quidditch and other fun things," I said mocking him in a very over exaggerated and high pitched version of his voice.

"Oh don't be mad, Weasley, you'll look cute in the uniform." My jaw dropped, he cleared his throat. "Well, I think I'll go. I got to get home. The Nott's are coming over for dinner."

"Oh…umm yeah. Of course," I said, looking at my shoes.

"You don't mind if I take one of these camera things do you?"

"No, of course you should have one. Keep safe and all that." He picked one up and pocketed it with ease, making his way back down the staircase. "Hey, wait." He paused, turning to face me. "What did you come here for in the first place?"

"See you at the start of term, Weasley." Then he was gone.


	6. Trials and Tribulations

_First half of second year: Roxanne is twelve_

Two weeks into my second year at Hogwarts and everything was going surprising well. That is, except for transfiguration but that had always been my worst subject. Everyone thinks professor Perks is this super-hot, hip guy when really he's just an annoying nugget who gives too much homework. But that's just my opinion. My failure in transfiguration, however, was nothing compared to the relief that came with a supreme lack of Skelton head encounters. It also paled in comparison to the nervous ache in my stomach no doubt a result of having quidditch trials this afternoon. I could barely keep down my eggs and bacon.

"I've forgotten how to fly," Ivar said, just as nervous as I was. "What's that thing that makes the broom come to you again?"

"UP!" Fred, Christie, Jessa and I shouted looking concerned. In his defense it was a lot of pressure being the kids of professional quidditch players; if we suck, it's embarrassing. If we're just good, we got on the team because of our famous mothers. That leaves one option – perfection. We have to be the fastest, boldest, most calculated Gryffindor's on our brooms because there are only two spots available for chasers and they're going to me and Ivar.

"I don't know why you're so worried, "Fred chimed. "You know your big bro and cousin James will always have your back." Fred and James are on the team too. My brother plays beater like our dad and James' is seeker like his.

"Speak for yourself," James said irritably, giving me a dirty look. He's mad at me because I chose to be Fin's potion partner over him.

"Come on man," Fred said, patting our cousin on the back. "It's been two weeks – get over it. Though, I still don't get why you wanted to work with, Parkinson, in the first place." Red. Was I red? Change the subject, don't stammer. Christie stop giving me that smug face.

"You're partnered with, Agatha Watson." I chided, trying to divert the conversation. "All I heard about last week was how she was the fittest girl in your year."

"Yeah, mate, I would kill to snuggle over a steamy cauldron with her," Ivar said with a dreamy look in his eye. Christie wacked him on the shoulder and rolled her eyes.

"Alright," she said in a huff. "Let's not get carried away, she's not worth all that." I tried to contain my laughter, her crush on my cousin James was alive and well – unfortunately.

"Anyway, James," I interrupted. "You should be thanking me. If it wasn't for her being your partner, she wouldn't be your girlfriend now would she?" Jessa, Ivar's sister and my brother's girlfriend, laughed like pumpkin juice was about to spew out of her nose. Apparently I'd said something funny, but I didn't know what it was.

"You're forgetting one crucial fact, sister dear," My brother said smartly.

"James doesn't have girlfriends." Fred and Jessa said together then laughed to each other like they were the most in love anyone could be - It was nauseating. Don't get me wrong, I love Jessa, she's smart and funny and her and my brother have been a long time coming, I just, you know, wish it wasn't thrown in my face a million times a day.

"What does that mean?" Ivar questioned. "He doesn't have girlfriends?"

"It means that I am James Potter and it would be a waste for me be with _one _woman. I must sacrifice my heart to be generous – thus is the burden of being the son of the chosen one."

"Charming, James," Jessa pouted while Ivar, Fred and even Christie laughed with him. I did gagging motion with my tongue.

"I will never understand what you see in him," I whispered to Christie, she turned thirty different shades of pink.

"Umm hello…you promised you wouldn't say anything!"

"Oh please, he can't hear us over the sound of his own voice."

"Agatha, didn't take my no-girlfriend rule very well," James continued.

"If by 'not taking it well', you mean batbogeying you in charms class… then _yeah, _she wasn't too happy," Jessa teased. I gave James a 'you deserved It' kind of shrug and head nod.

"Anyway!" James said in Jessa's giggling direction. "Now I'm stuck with her for the rest of term and it's all your fault."

"No, I'm not taking the fall for your wierdo love life." James stuck his tongue out at me as I made to leave the table.

"Where're you headed?" Ivar asked, "Trials start in 20 minutes."

"I forgot my necklace with my mum's number on it. Just gonna go to common room to grab it for good luck. See you on the pitch!" I shouted from across the hall. I ran smack dab into the noticeably firmer chest of Finnian Parkinson. He'd gotten taller and his jaw had lost some of its baby fat, now a more defined, round chin. He'd let his dark hair grow out, but still kept it spiking and his grey eyes were just as mysterious as ever. I was out of breath, but it wasn't because of the collision.

"Hey," he said, his hand resting casually in the pocket of his slacks.

"Bloody hell Fin, you're going to give someone a bloody heart attack, one day"

"Where have you been, Weasley?" Ignoring me as always, that's fine…

"What do you mean?" I tried to lean casually on door to the great hall but underestimated the distance and stumbled a bit. "I…um… I see you four days a week in potions. I can see how you could forget as I do all the work anyway but –"

"I mean, _where have you been_?" He did some weird thing with his eyes that was like secret code I was supposed to interpret – I didn't. I was too busy noticing how little space there was now between us. "Shit, you're thick this morning," he said, harshly. "I _mean, _I haven't seen you wondering the castle at night. You didn't go promising mummy and daddy you'd be a good little girl this year did you?" I scoffed.

"Please. I've been training for quidditch trials with Ivar non-stop since I got here. I'm so tired when I get back to my room that I just pass out." He made a disgusted face like he always did when I mentioned quidditch. "Why," I continued. "You miss me?" I did a big annoying grin that I knew would drive him crazy. He was about to give me some smart remark but Pimberly -really starting to piss me off- Nott decided to occupy his lips in other ways. Her long brown silky hair whipped me in the face when she kissed him. I wanted to curse the pompous look off her face and the smirk off of his.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go," I said turning to leave, trying not to let it upset me to the point of ruining my trial.

"So soon?" Pimberly said, finally removing herself from her very public display of affection. "But we were all so enjoying your first year flirting routine with my boyfriend." It wasn't as if that many people were listening but Fin sure was and that was enough to make my heart want to explode from the weight of embarrassment. At least he was loyal enough not to laugh. I turned to go, afraid to meet his gaze. But not before –

"Aquamenti" I cast as I left, spraying her white button down with water and making her hot pink bra ever more present to the entire great hall. She squealed, trying to cover herself. The Gryffindor table, led by my brother and James whooped, whistled and cheered for my exit. With new confidence I chanced a look to see Fin's reaction. He was smiling and I had won. Unfortunately, I also caught a glimpse of McGonagall looking to see what the ruckus was. Needless to say, I cleared out of there faster than you could say quidditch.

The pitch looked exactly how I'd always imagined, green, big and alive with the nervous energy of prospective team members. My hand wrapped eagerly around my God's speed as I waited for my turn to fly. We were all wearing the Gryffindor practice pennies and I thought, even if I don't make it, for just a little bit, I got to feel like I was part of the team. Not that there was really that much competition for Ivar and I. Sure, a bunch of eager Gryffindor's had shown up for the trial but from what I could see, not many of them had ever really played the sport before.

"It's Roxanne, right," Bret Rivers asked. He was a year older than Ivar and I but I knew him from potions. He was the other Gryffindor beater and he looked like it too. He was tall and built like an oxe; he had olive skin and cool black hair that was buzzed at the sides. I nodded my head nervously. He was very popular. "You're the chick Professor Slughorn's always using as an example in potions class." I thought I might die. Ivar snickered, I punched him hard in the side. "Well, get ready, you and," he looked down at his parchment, "Jordan are up next. Looks like we got some team Legacy's here!" He shouted to the rest of the pitch, setting up for our trial. It was the first time I wished I wasn't a walking billboard of my parents and given the green tint to Ivar's face, he was feeling the same. "Hey Legacy," Bret called again.

"Huh!" Ivar said, worried he'd missed something.

"Oh, I meant Roxanne."

"Yeah, right, of course." Ivar stammered.

"Nice broom," Bret said with a wink. Before I even got a chance to register what that meant –

"Bloody Hell! You're friends with Bret Rivers? That's awesome." Ivar said excitedly. "We're a total shoe in, I hear he's on track to be captain when Shira graduates."

"Probably, he's really good," I chimed. "But do you want to know some real dish about him."

"Dish?" Ivar recoiled. "You've been spending way too much time with Christie."

"Noted. Do you want to know or not?" He nodded for me to continue. "Fred told me that his mum, Cho and my Uncle Harry dated when they were at Hogwarts."

"Bollocks!"

"I swear on Merlin, I'm not taking the piss. My brother says my Aunt Ginny can't stand her."

"Jordan, Weasley – stop flirting, you're up." Fred said with a laugh. I might have barfed at the insinuation, but I was suddenly too nervous to think straight.

"Shove it, Fred," Not too nervous to retaliate, of course.

"Alright you too," Shira, the captain, said to my brother and me. Shira was Gryffindor's other chaser and well good at it too. Last year I swear she scored like 50% of the points by herself. Mum, who does some scouting for her old team, Puddlemere, was thinking about recruiting her but I'm not allowed to say anything. "So, I'm sure you've figured this out by watching the other teams but even if you haven't your goal is simple enough – score. We want to see you fly and your ability to strategize and work with a team when under pressure. Fred and Bret will be beaters trying to attack you."

"Good luck, little sis," Fred called a bit too happily. Shira cleared her throat and gave him a piercing stare.

"Only one bludger will be in play, as to even out things a bit. Our lovely, Martha, will be at goal." The two made googly eyes at each other from across the pitch. They were like a quidditch power couple at Hogwarts, a scoring and defending pair, perfect harmony and they never let anyone forget it. "You'll have fifteen minutes to show us what you've got – good luck."

As soon as my toe touched down to kick myself up into warm air, still hot from the fading summer, my nerves turned into adrenaline and I was on fire. I was good at quidditch and it wasn't because my dad was on the team or my mum was one of the greats but because I worked for it – me. I spent almost every day of my holiday training and every day since I'd been back at school practicing with Ivar. It was almost unfair to the other players trying out that we were paired together, me and Ivar knew each other's technique so well by now we practically danced across the pitch.

"Rox, overhead." He shouted as my brother sent the bludger my way, I swerved, diving headfirst down the pitch while catching the quaffel Ivar sent my way. Up, up, I went passing it back under Bret's broom, Ivar caught it easily, immediately making it into the right hand ring. It had been ten minutes and we'd achieved 60 points as a pair. I scored forty of those, with wonderful assists from my partner, of course. Never the less, that was twice the number of points anyone else had managed and I was feeling pretty confident about my game.

"Look up, "said a voice in my ear. A shiver ran through me, I jolted. The voice sounded like…more felt like it was coming from my head, almost like a memory. "We're coming," the voice said again, it echoed inside me, taunting, tormenting. I sat immobilized on my broom, shutting my eyes to shut out the intrusion. "It's coming! Look up… LOOK UP!" My head jerked upwards without my control.

"Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!" I screamed. In the sky was a huge skeleton made of black smoke but there were two large hands over it where the eyes would be.

"Owe!" I shrieked in the direction of the bludger that hit me in the arm. Crap – trials! I took the tail end of my broom and wacked the ball, hard back in Bret's direction; he almost fell off his broom.

"Pass," I barked to Ivar, he tossed me the ball, looking bewildered. I caught it and threw it with all my might at the center ring. Martha caught it with a hiss and shake of her swelling hand. Perhaps I threw it a bit harder than I'd meant to.

"Alright, that's time!" Shira called, looking nervous for the safety of her girlfriend. I zoomed down to the ground and left without another word to anyone.

The team list would be posted on the Gryffindor bulletin before dinner, the wait was killing me. Not that I didn't have my hands full in the library, researching whatever it was that attacked me on the pitch. I would have asked Ivar and Christie to help but I couldn't say anything about what I saw because I made that stupid promise to Finnian. Besides, Ivar wasn't talking to me at present because he thought I screwed up his trial.

Shira and the rest of the team entered the common room looking a bit knackered, particularly James and my brother. That couldn't be a good sign, I thought. It definitely wasn't when they marched towards me, grabbed me by each shoulder and pulled me out the portrait hole. I tried to get a glimpse of the list Shira was about to put up on my way out but it was no use.

"Hey, you prats. Let me go!" I ordered, they huffed and grumbled in response. I was tossed into a wall not that far away from the common room. I prepared for the pain but instead I went through the wall and found myself in a lavish sitting room, with couches and a bed. It had pictures of Jessa and Fred all over the walls, as well as a few of James and his various conquests. "What is this?" I asked not so sure I wanted to know the answer.

"Clubhouse," James answered, sharply.

"You didn't think dad and Fred senior were the only ones could find secret passages in this castle did you?" my brother chimed.

"The map's great, but it held them back," James continued. "See, they assumed they knew it all – but obviously, they didn't!"

"We're in the process of making some necessary adjustments."

"Not that we don't respect the marauders – gods bless the souls of Moony, Padfoot and Prongs!" the two of them said together. They'd been the marauder's biggest fans since I could remember. "Let the rat rot," they finished, still in unison.

"How could you keep this from me," I asked, a little hurt. They both got all fidgety and scratched their heads.

"Strictly speaking, this particular space is not one we'd like to share with our –"

"Shut it, James!" Fred insisted. "What hell happened to you today on the pitch?" Oh, that's what this was about.

"I thought I saw something, you know, in the sky?" I hastened to get out. This would all be a lot easier to explain if everything wasn't some big secret.

"There was nothing in the sky, Rox," Fred said, "except you screaming at nothing. Shira thinks you're mentally unstable and a potential liability to the team." He was shouting, my brother never really shouted at me – I wasn't a fan. "Come off it, is this some prank? Because if it is, it almost cost you you're spot!" I looked up at them eyes wide with relief and disbelief.

"Almost… I made it?"

"Of course you made it," Fred bit back. "You and Ivar flew circles around everyone else, but it took some convincing."

"She almost replaced you with Jeremy Finnigan," James said with a shudder. I recoiled, a little defensive even though it was my spot. I'll say it again: It was my spot!

"Jeremy. Finnigan. He barely got 10 points. He's been trying to get on the team for ages and never makes it. Martha probably felt sorry for him." I grumbled.

"Yeah well, he also didn't go all psycho and break the captain's girlfriend's hand."

"I broke her hand?"

"Sure did, what if it did serious damage and she was out for the season? What would we have done without a keeper?" James said. I know they were mad but there faces were scrunched up like little bull dogs and I found it more funny than threatening. I wouldn't dare say that though.

"I'm sure Pomfrey fixed her right up."

"I guess, but Shira's not your biggest admirer at the moment."

"How'd I get on the team then? Did my family defend my honor?" I said with a smile. I threw my arms around their shoulders, which was a very difficult feat considering my brother and I were quite a bit taller than James.

"Not bloody likely," Fred said weaseling out of my grip.

"What he means is, we tried but she wouldn't let us speak because of nepotism and all that. Bret's the one spoke up for you."

"Got fed up at the end of the meeting, didn't he," Fred continued. "Said this was a ridiculous conversation and that Shira would be an idiot not to put you on team if she wanted to win the cup."

"What'd she say to that?" I asked with a smile, feeling rather good about myself.

"Well, she didn't," James said. "She just grumpily wrote your name down and stomped out the tent."

"Look, all we're saying little sis, is watch out. No more crazy on the pitch or she'll boot you for sure." I nodded my head.

"And don't think about trying to get into our hideout," James said.

"The wall only dematerializes for us," said Fred.

"yeah, yeah…I get it. You don't want me in your creepy hookup man cave – yeesh you all took the phrase 'get a room' way to seriously." My brother picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I kicked and giggled, at least he wasn't mad anymore.

"We have some celebrating to do," he said when we got into common room again. "My sister and my girlfriend's little bro made the team!"

"Butter beers on me!" James said pulling a crate out from behind the couch. He and Fred, no doubt nicked it from the kitchens. There were cheers form the Gryffindors but mostly because no one argued with Fred Weasley and James Potter, plus the free butter beer. I felt kind of bad for Finnigan, he stared at me with a poisonous intensity. I mean to say, I _did_ feel bad for him until I found out he was my alternate. His entire existence on the team depended on me screwing up again.

Fred handed me a butter beer, his face turning serious again. "Hey, when you write to Mum and Dad about making the team, don't tell them you think you saw something OK? It'll get Dad all worked up over nothing." I nodded, feeling a bit guilty for not explaining things to my brother.

Jessa ran up and jumped on his back, giving him a kiss on the cheek. My brother smiled up at his girlfriend, returning her kiss.

"Come on, you're missing the party," she said happily. "James said if you don't come quick, he's going to steal me away from you."

"Over my dead body," he snorted. "Oi, Cus, you want a fight or what?" He charged into the crowd of routy Gryffindors, Jessa still attached to his back. Maybe they weren't nauseating as much as cute, I thought to myself as I watched my older brother on the edge of falling in love for the first time.

"Congrats!" I heard someone say behind me, clanking my butter beer bottle against there's. It was Bret Rivers, standing next to me in all of his heart throb glory.

"Thank you," I smiled. "I heard you're the reason so –"

"Hey, you earned it, I just cooled the temper of a witch scorned. You were really good out there, could be better than Shira one day and she knows it." His smile was all white teeth and dimples, it was so genuine and full of life – like he was always mid interview or something. "Next time, though, go all super-human-girl-strength on the other team's keeper."

"Will do," I grinned shyly.

"Please tell me I didn't just die and go to witch heaven," Christie said at my side as Bret went to go talk to someone way more worth his popular time than me. "Were you just conversing with Bret Rivers, in the flesh?"  
"He did seem to have skin – yes," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Gods Roxy, keep that up and we are so going to be the coolest in our year! Take that Carmella Snout." You have to excuse Christie, she has been charting our social standing since she, Ivar and I became our own little trio. She has big plans for us – not that Ivar or I care, but it makes her happy. We mostly just smile and go along with whatever she tells us to do.

"Glad to be of service," I said. She linked arms with me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Ivar's sorry, you know. For the way he treated you after the trial, you know how he can be. A tossar on his best day, but he always means well. Though, he might understand more if you explained what happened on the pitch."

"I…uhhh –"I stammered.

"Made a pact with your evil slytherin boy-like-friend, yeah I know."

"What – how?" Shallow to insightful in a second, honestly.

"I'm a seer, give me some credit here. Look, I get why you don't want to share this with us. I think you're relinquishing your better judgment and friendship loyalty for a guy – but you know me," she winked, "I get it."

"I'm not –"

"Ivar _won't_ understand though, your brother, your cousin, your parents – them either. So, if you're going to keep all this stuff a secret, you've gotta do a better job of hiding it." I looked into her periwinkle eyes, bright with joy and full of knowledge.

"Did you see what happened?" I asked wearily.

"No. My inner eye can't show me things only you can see, but when Ivar got back and started talking about what happened I had a feeling there was a part to the story you weren't telling. Ugh…serious time finished," she said gleefully, pulling me into the party. James and Fred were arm wrestling in the middle of the common room while onlookers chanted their respective names. "Isn't your cousin just the cutest thing that breaths." She sighed staring at James. He was the spitting image of his father with his namesake's good looks and his mother's charisma. It was a dangerous combination for all those not related to him and Christie had caught the Potter bug – bad!

"Ew! He's a complete manslag. How many times must we go over this?" I said.

"Until his eyes stop being so darn irresistible," she practically sang. I wanted to argue, but who was I to judge. What was Fin accept the slytherin version of my cousin. I shuttered, that thought could keep me sick for a lifetime.


	7. NOTICE

Sorry you wonderful people who have been reading and are patiently awaiting a new chapter. Life is a real nugget and is currently kicking my butt. I don't know when I will be continuing this fic, but I will finish it eventually. I'll delete this chapter and start uploading new ones when this fic is live again (obviously). Happy New Year to you all!


End file.
